


Anywhere We Go, We're Home

by Lady_Blackwater



Series: Oakland's Very Own [10]
Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Awesome Shuri (Marvel), Black Character(s), Brotherly Love, Declarations Of Love, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Erik Killmonger Has Feelings, Erik Killmonger Lives, Erik Killmonger Redemption, F/M, Family Drama, Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Original Character(s), Post-Black Panther (2018), Soft Erik Killmonger, Sweet T'Challa (Marvel), True Love, Vacation, Wakanda (Marvel), Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28624800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Blackwater/pseuds/Lady_Blackwater
Summary: T'Challa and Nakia's upcoming nuptials put things in perspective for Erik and Sienna.
Relationships: Erik Killmonger/Original Female Character(s), Nakia (Black Panther)/T'Challa
Series: Oakland's Very Own [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1353331
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HalcyonSeasons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalcyonSeasons/gifts).



> I love my beta, HalcyonSeasons. This fic wouldn't have been made without her.

The term “running around like a chicken with their head cut off” immediately comes to mind as Erik watches Sienna scurry around their bedroom in full panic mode. 

“If you would’ve packed a week ago like I told you—” he starts, but she puts a freshly manicured hand up at him. 

“Shut up.” 

“Aye, I’m just saying.” 

“Unless you gon’ help me pack, please spare me the speech.” 

Erik tuts and makes a show out of getting comfortable on their bed. 

“So you really not gon’ help me?” 

“I told you get that shit together, but yo’ ass hard-headed.” 

Sienna inspects a crop top, folds it, and then places it neatly in her suitcase among the mountain of other unnecessary outfits. “You don’t have to be rude.” 

“You not hard-headed alluva sudden?”

“I am, but you don’t gotta be a dickhead about it.”

Erik rolls his eyes upward and continues watching her go between the closet and the bedroom, pulling out more clothes and accessories with each trip. 

“We only gon’ be there four days,” he reminds her. “Nakia and ‘nem already picked out your dress and shit.” 

“Yeah, for the wedding and reception, but I need something to wear when I get off the plane, sightseeing, and oh, shit, meeting the Queen—”

“You’ve met her.”

“Yeah, over FaceTime!” Her eyes widen in realization. “Oh, my God, wait, I’m actually gonna meet the Queen.”

Unimpressed and minutely annoyed, Erik’s face doesn’t change when he mumbles out, “So?”

“Look, I know you like to pretend you hate your family, but this a big-ass deal for me. It’s one thing meeting your S.O’s family, but these niggas is royalty. I ain’t never met no royalty.” 

“So, fuck me then.” 

“Boy,  _ please _ ,” she tells him, folding up a pair of jean shorts and placing them in the suitcase. “You don’t walk around with bodyguards, go to banquets, and sign treaties and shit.” 

“Fuck I look like doing that shit anyway?”

She breaks out in a hearty laugh. “And yet, you wanted to be king.”

“I  _ was  _ king.”

She shoots a lazy finger gun his way as if to say _ yeah, you got me there.  _ “Anyway, I’m more nervous about meeting her as your aunt than anything else. Like, okay, the official royal shit I think I can deal with ‘cus I seen  _ The Princess Diaries,  _ but you know how in-laws can be. What if she don’t like me?”

“Guess I gotta kick yo’ ass to the curb then.” 

“I’m being so deadass right now.” 

He shrugs.

“No, really, E,” she whines with a pout and crossed arms. “Weren’t you nervous the first time meeting my family?”

“First off,” he starts. “You’ve met them niggas already. Ain’t shit new. Secondly, no.”

“You wasn’t scared of my father at all?”

Erik shakes his head. 

“Cap.” 

“I’m f’real,” he insists. “Ya moms was some’ different, though. I seen some shit, but she was a whole ‘nother type of scary.” 

Sienna nods in agreement. “See my point?” 

“But look at how shit worked out, Thickums.” He puts his hands up in revelation. “She love her some me.” 

“She tolerates you.” 

“Nah, she loves me. All the women in yo’ family do.” 

“I think it’s your modesty,” she jokes, tossing a top at him. “Please, help me?” 

“You really gon’ spend the rest of our lives begging and asking me for shit,” he complains, but it’s in vain as he gets out of bed to sit across from her and assist in folding. 

“Getting on your nerves is one of my favorite pastimes besides doing hair and shopping.” 

“See, nah, if I annoyed you the way you do me, you woulda been left.” 

“This nigga said  _ if _ he annoy me,” she mumbles aloud and presses a stack of clothes down. “Well, you can’t do shit about it now. I’m on that ass for life now.” 

It’s been three weeks since Erik’s impromptu proposal and even with the weight of doing so off his shoulders, it’s bothersome he didn’t do it the way he planned.

First, he planned to do it at her parents’ house in front of their family at the yearly reunion. After a thorough lesson from Shuri on why he should absolutely  _ not _ do that, he had plan B on standby. 

He planned a baecation to Sardinia—one of Sienna’s top ten travel spots—and a whole bunch of romantic shit before popping the question during a night swim at the beach. The trip can and will be done for the sake of it, but he can’t help feeling it’s less special. 

The way it happened was classic Erik and Sienna, though. 

“It’s been a struggle not telling nobody,” she admits, frowning down at her naked ring finger. “My mama been losing her mind. You know she wanna brag to my aunties.”

“Last thing we need is ‘sources’ and ‘friends of the couple’ telling TMZ, ShadeRoom, and The Breakfast Club made up shit, looking for they fifteen minutes with interviews and shit.” 

Sienna lays out, resting her head in Erik’s lap as he organizes her suitcase. “Like that’s gon’ stop ‘em from making shit up about us and running with it anyway. I think my favorite one was when you cheated on me with that Victoria Secret model, we broke up, and I threw you out our thirty million dollar mansion in Beverly Hills.” 

He chuckles. “Oh, don’t forget the time you allegedly used to date T’Challa and we hooked up at an event to make him jealous. That one was creative, I give ‘em that. People say  _ anything _ .”

“People  _ believe _ anything,” Sienna adds, joining in the laugh and rolling her eyes at the absurdity. “I have so much ‘beef’ with people I ain’t never met ‘cus of yo’ famous ass.”

“I’on wanna be corny and say it comes with the territory, but my bad,” he replies unapologetically as he removes a chunk of clothes from the suitcase. “You be surprised how many chicks from my hood that never paid a nigga no attention tried to be friends after I came back from Wakanda just to have a story to tell on some ‘I grew up with him’ type shit to get somewhere.” 

“Clout is a helluva drug,” she concludes. “Real talk, it’s only a few people I wanna tell anyway. Ayesha, obviously—” 

“I bet she’ll enjoy hearing you boutta spend yo’ life with me,” he snickers.

“She really don’t dislike you as much as you think she do.” 

“Yeah, a’ight. Who else?” 

“Mikayla,” she continues and then pauses, staring up at him. “Me and Willow used to fantasize about getting married a day after each other, living next door to one another, and having babies at the same time so our kids’ll be play cousins. It’s wild—I wanted to call her even before my mom, but I knew I couldn’t.” 

“You think she woulda picked up?” 

She shrugs and runs her nails across the scarred bumps riddling his arm. “Is it fucked up I don’t wanna invite her to our wedding?”

“Nah, it’s not.” 

“I just—” She stops to exhale and not rile herself up. “I don’t want her nowhere near CJ. I get she his mama, but he’s made hella progress with detaching and healing from her abuse, and I fucking hate that we have him under these circumstances. It’s not like she was gon’ be my maid of honor or anything, but, like, fuck, y’know?”

Erik nods to show he’s listening.

“I don’t think we should start planning anything until CJ has graduated high school,” she tells him, flipping to her side. “Planning a wedding takes hella time, and I just wanna focus on him until he’s on his own off at school.” 

“I’m with that,” he agrees. “But I don’t think he ever gon’ really be on his own when you baby him the way you do.”

“Well,  _ he’s my baby _ . He gon’ end up doing a drive-by on his mama house if he keep fucking with you.”

That earns her a pluck to the forehead to which she swipes at him, nail bared like a cat. He dodges it, so she tries again with more force as a mischievous smile spreads over his face. 

“You tryna go?” he tests, thwarting Sienna’s playful attempts to slap him. “You don’t want a round with me.” 

She gets to her feet, rejected clothes in hand on her way back to the closet. “I’m serious, though. No planning until he’s at school.” 

“A’ight, fine.” Erik nods, zipping up her suitcase. “He a junior now, right?” 

“Yup!”

“Fine. We ain’t in no rush.” 

Sienna exits the closet, wheels her luggage to the bedroom entrance, and then disappears into the bathroom to gather forgotten toiletries. “Where’s my damn birth control?” she mutters to herself, searching each cabinet and drawer until she finds the empty package fallen just near the trash.

“Shit,” she hisses, mentally reminding herself to get that refilled when they get back. 

“What?” Erik calls. 

She brushes it off. “Nothing.” 

After getting her toiletries together, she clips them to her luggage and grimaces at the sad excuse of a wardrobe stuffed in Erik’s nondescript duffel. 

“I don’t know how you gon’ go four days with that tiny ass bag.” Sienna plops onto the bed, relieved to finally be done packing. 

“Anytime I’m not actively needed for whatever marital shit T and ‘nem need, I’mma be sleep.” 

“You not gon’ sightsee with me? Ain’t you say Wakandan sunsets are the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen?” 

Erik lays on his back, inviting her in for a cuddle that she instantly accepts. “That was before I seen you.”

“You are so corny!” Sienna groans, throwing her leg over his waist and getting comfortable against him. “No, but f’real, E. You should show me around.” 

“You so optimistic,” he mumbles groggily. “Let’s get through meeting my peoples and see where that goes.” 

She hums, glancing up to see that instead of drifting, his eyes are trained down at her. “Did you tell anyone on your side?”

“Krystal.”

“Not your cousins?”

Erik shakes his head.

“They not gon’ tell nobody,” she tells him, but he continues shaking his head as though the notion is impossible. 

“Last thing we need is them in our business,” he declares with a tone letting her know that’s all he’s saying on the subject.

Before Sienna can say anything else, he’s fallen asleep. 

She watches him until she does the same.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The pillow Erik chucks from across the room lands right on Sienna’s face, effectively stunning her out of a peaceful sleep.

“Time to get up,” he tells her through a mouth of toothpaste suds. Sienna defiantly buries herself in the covers. 

It’s too early. 

Nonetheless, she gets up and groggily lands a smack to the back of his head in retaliation when she trudges by him on the way to the shower. 

“‘Mornin’, Princess.”

“Fuck you.” 

They’re right on time, dressed and ready to leave by six. While Erik loads the truck with their luggage, Sienna creeps into CJ’s room to find him fast asleep. 

“Baby,” she coos, kneeling against his bed and shaking his arm lightly. “E and I are heading out now.” 

The teenager makes a noise of acknowledgement, eyes fluttering. 

“We’ll be back in four days, okay? One of us gon’ call when we land in a few hours.” 

“Hmmmm,” he hums. 

“We sent you some money for emergencies. Don’t let nobody up in the house except Krystal and only Krystal. You hear me?”

CJ nods. “Gotchu, Sisi. E already ran it down for me. Bring me back a shirt or some’.” 

Sienna kisses his forehead, unable to tear her eyes away as she backs out of his room. “Be good, lil’ boy. Don’t hesitate to call if you need us.” 

It’s entirely too early and too dark out for Erik to be blaring his ignorant trap playlist the moment she steps outside the house. The annoyance shows plain on her face as she climbs into the Range Rover. Instead of arguing about it, they ride without a word to the Outreach Center that thankfully isn’t far. 

By the time they arrive, the sun is peeking behind the clouds to turn the sky every shade of orange and pink. 

“Oh, shit,” Sienna mutters as they pull into the parking lot, taking in the fierce Dora Milaje stationed in a protective barrier around what Sienna can best describe as a large, metallic spaceship parked on the basketball court. They barely react to the loud arrival, standing still as statues with their faces trained forward and spears at the ready at their sides. 

“Get the cussing outcha system now,” Erik advises as he kills the engine and slides on designer sunglasses. “Auntie don’t play that.” 

Sienna inhales. “Fuck. Hell. Shit. Bitch. Motherfucker. Dick  _ and _ balls. Nutsack. Pussy. Damn. Cock. Cunt. Nigga,” she says with a side-eye. “Am I missing any?” 

“Nah, you good.” 

“A’ight, bet. Let’s do this.”

Okoye stands tall at the helm, objectively scarier than the rest of her army, yet the sight of a familiar face eases Sienna’s nerves. She doesn’t expect the general to smile at her as they approach.

Unable to control herself, Sienna waves giddily like she’s seeing an old school friend.

“Prince N’Jadaka. Sister Vermillion,” she greets and narrows her gaze on Erik. “I am surprised you’re actually on time.” 

“I could  _ never  _ be late for my favorite cousin’s wedding,” he shoots back sarcastically.

Okoye resists making a face and instead calls out an order in Xhosa that sets a handful of unseen servants in motion from out of nowhere to gather their luggage. 

“Come,” she instructs, leading them towards the spaceship. “Everyone is eager to see the Prince. We’ve a long trip ahead of us and we mustn’t keep the King waiting.” 

“Wouldn’t want that,” Erik scoffs to himself. 

A glowing walkway lowers from the side of the aircraft with a whir and Okoye gestures up the ramp. Erik takes Sienna’s hand to assist her into the aircraft, and the walkway morphs back into the wall after Okoye boards. 

Sienna stands in her spot, childlike wonder taking over as she takes in the Afrofuturistic interior.

“It’s like a time machine,” she says aloud.

Okoye grins at her, charmed by her demeanor at something so simple when she hasn’t even seen the best of what they have to offer. 

“Glad we can be accommodating. There is a lounge area in the rear if you wish to rest. It’s going to be a lengthy journey,” she says. “Make yourself at home, Sister Vermillion.  _ Indawo yethu yindawo yakho _ .”

Sienna looks over at Erik, who has already removed his shoes and sunglasses. “Our place is your place,” he translates, and then retreats through the sliding partition separating the main area from the lounge den.

“Thanks.” Sienna nods at Okoye. “I appreciate it, O. You know you can call me Sisi. You sound like the ladies at my mama church with the Sister Vermillion stuff.” 

Okoye places her massive spear in a slot on the blue, glowing wall. “As you wish,  _ Sisi _ . You can watch take off if you would like.” 

“Watch take off,” she repeats. “Is that safe? Like, shouldn’t I buckle up or something?” 

“That won’t be necessary,” she assures her and takes a cross legged seat at the cockpit equipped with various glowing buttons and holographic controls. 

“Oh, wow. This is... _ wow _ .” 

Okoye caresses the air to activate a neon, transparent joystick that gets the aircraft humming to life and vibrating. Sienna would never be able to tell they’re hovering off of the ground if not for the concrete basketball court getting smaller and smaller through the window taking up the entire front of the aircraft. 

The neighborhood turns into a mere speck the higher they disappear into the atmosphere. They’ve only been in the sky about five minutes before Okoye waves her fingers at a floating screen and the aircraft begins flying itself. 

“This is totally safe, right?” Sienna asks out of pure fascination. “I never seen an autopilot like that before.”

“We have contingencies in place in the event of danger, but you are perfectly fine. You have my word and the King’s that no harm is to come your way,” she says over her shoulder.

Sienna can’t help her smile at the mention of T’Challa. “Wow,” she exhales. “Uh, thank you, Okoye.”

“ _ Wamkelekile _ . Take a rest. We’ve a long way to go.” 

Sienna nods. She’s gonna have to ask Erik to teach her their native tongue. 

The lounge area makes any first class flight either of them have ever taken look cheap—it’s to be expected that any Wakandan version of anything makes the original look secondhand. 

Erik has already made himself comfortable laid out on the polished leather sofa, with AirPods in his ears and eyes shut while his fingers drum to whatever song is playing. Even with the mass selection of furniture Sienna could occupy, Erik looks the comfiest, so she lays beside him and curves her leg around his waist the way she does at home. One of his large arms hooks around her to bring them closer while the other plucks an AirPod out to his ear to hand to her. 

“How long the flight gon’ be?” she asks as she scrolls through his music catalogue for something more her taste when he hands her his phone, too. 

He thinks for a minute and then responds with a mumbled, “‘Bout twelve hours. Half the time it’d be if we flew like regular niggas.” 

“Hmph.” She sets the phone down and yawns. “Get me up before we land so I can make myself cute.” 

“You already cute.” 

“I’m serious. You not gon’ have me meeting the Queen looking crazy.”

“Go to sleep, Princess.” 

Eight out of twelve of those hours are spent in and out of consciousness, struggling to stay awake but the cozy environment makes it difficult. They watch movies on the flatscreen, snack on the foreign treats stored in the mini fridge and cabinets, and even Erik teaches her conversational Xhosa. 

When Okoye announces they’d be landing soon, Sienna rushes to the bathroom and immediately dumps the contents on the counter. Makeup, hair products, a wig, and a whole outfit fly escape with clatters and clunks on their way to the floor. 

“How in the hell you fit all that shit in there?” Erik questions, standing at the doorway with his eyebrows raised at her stuff scattered everywhere. 

Sienna undoes the puff atop her head, grabs her spray bottle and brush to begin untangling her hair. “Stop cussing or I’mma wanna cuss.” 

“Fuck, my bad.”

She spritzes him in the face with the bottle like a disobedient cat. “Get gone,” she demands, but he stays for the sole purpose of annoying her. 

“I know you not planning on putting that on,” he says, gesturing to the wavy, black wig strewn over the sink. 

“It’s only for the ceremony and reception and then I’mma just wear my hair out,” she informs him and brushes her hair upwards. “Why? Do y’all not have wigs in Wakanda?” 

“Not really. It’s seen as highly disrespectful to wear one in the presence of royalty ‘cus it’s law to embrace hair in its natural state.”

Sienna pauses mid-brush, eyes bulging with panic as they flit to Erik’s reflection. His lips curl inward to stifle a laugh, so Sienna swats at him. 

“You play too damn much,” she grumbles, smoothing out the bouncy puff after tying it up. He chuckles to himself in the midst of rolling his eyes at his fiancée’s antics. 

“You’ll be a’ight,” he promises. “It’s scary now, but in two years’ time when you an official Princess, it’s gon’ seem like nothing.”

Sienna stops again, utterly thrown off by the truth in his words. 

“Technically you’ll be a Duchess, but Duchess don’t have a ring the way Princess do. It’s the same thing.” 

She’ll be a Princess. 

An actual Princess. 

Erik is a Prince… therefore making her a Princess.

The cute little nickname her father granted her (and that Erik adopted) will actually come into fruition the way every little girl dreams of. 

“Hmm,” she tuts and squeezes Got2b on the edge brush. “I’ll be on my Meghan Markle shit. Does that mean I can’t post my ass no more?”

“You royalty now,” he says simply. “You can do whatever the fuck you wanna do.”

  
  
  
  
  


As many times as Erik tells her to quit fidgeting, Sienna slyly finds a way to adjust her yellow, spaghetti strap sundress or press her false eyelash band to her eye, testing it’s security. 

“You keep moving like that and they gon’ think you on that stuff,” Erik teases. 

“But I look good, though, don’t I?” 

“I don’t think they’ll care. You boutta be jetlag in a second, anyway.” 

Her excitement laced with fear trumps her annoyance with him being right. Erik exits the lounge area and Sienna follows after assuring she smells like peaches and looks just as delicious. 

The ramp detaches from the wall and lowers onto a glowing walkway lined with the rest of the Dora Milaje at attention on each side. With a Dora by their side, T’Challa and the Queen wait at the end of the walkway, so Sienna starts fixing herself again. 

“Stop twitching, crackhead,” he mutters, helping her down the ramp. 

“I can’t, bitch. I’m nervous,” she whispers back, teeth bared in what she hopes is a friendly smile for everyone on the landing zone. 

Okoye salutes her army, making an X with her arms and bowing her head as she leads them to the royal family. Sienna doesn’t ease her grip on Erik’s hand for anything even if the chunky heels and wobbly knees make it difficult for her to Naomi Campbell strut the way she’d planned. 

She does her best to focus on the people before her rather than the rising Wakandan sun illuminating through the skyscraper of a glass castle behind them. 

“Do I bow? Am I supposed to bow?” she asks. The only reason she doesn’t smack the naughty smile off his face is because his family is here. “ _ Don't _ play with me, E.” 

“Just chill out, baby. You gon’ be a’ight.”

They stop when Okoye does, and Sienna just about swoons since they're even more majestic up close. It feels inappropriate not to bow. 

The Queen is surprisingly shorter than previously imagined, but her height takes nothing away from how gorgeous and regal she is in her red gown, matching Isicholo hat, and chunky jewelry. White and black painted dots surround her kind eyes and her full lips are upturned in a welcoming smile.

“My King. My Queen,” Okoye says, nodding to them respectively. 

“Thank you, General,” T’Challa nods back and then turns to his cousin. “Good morning, N’Jadaka.”

“Cuzzo.” 

T’Challa grins at Sienna. “It is so good to see you after such a long time, Sienna.” Her name flows like warm honey off his tongue in that beautiful accent of his. “It is my understanding that you haven’t been formally introduced to my mother.” 

The Queen extends her hand to hold Sienna’s under her, capturing Sienna’s soul right from her body with just a look.

“There is no need for formalities,” she says. “You may call me Queen Mother or just Aunt Ramonda if it suits you, Sienna.” 

Once Sienna’s breath regulates back to normal at being granted the permission to call the Queen her aunt as well as hearing her name in another breathtaking accent, she giggles like a giddy school girl. It’s physically impossible for her to produce a single word let alone speak a whole sentence. 

“It really is so nice to  _ finally _ meet you,” the Queen continues, rubbing her thumb comfortingly over the back of Sienna’s hand. “It’s a shame my dear nephew kept such a beautiful girl away for so long.”

Erik makes a clicking noise with his tongue and complains in their native tongue

to which Ramonda responds quickly with attitude in her arched eyebrow, shutting him up immediately. Okoye and T’Challa hide their smirks. 

The only other woman able to do  _ that _ is Krystal.

“Thank you,” she says. “It’s nice to finally meet you, too. Been waiting on this day for a minute. It’s always nice for families to come together. ” 

Ramonda squeezes her hand and never breaks eye contact when she refers to the Dora beside her. 

“Ayo, see to it that the Prince and our guest get well adjusted in their quarters before breakfast. There’s much to do before the rehearsal dinner.” 

The Dora—Ayo—wordlessly nods and escorts Erik and Sienna from the landing zone. Sienna’s hand grabs Erik’s again as they depart, and she can’t help looking back. 

Once they're out of earshot, T’Challa sighs and looks between Okoye and his mother. “So, what do we think?”

“I think we should rescue her while she’s here,” Okoye comments and then taps her spear to the ground twice. The other women follow their leader off the landing zone, and onto a hovering elevator. 

Ramonda pats her son’s cheek. “She is nice. I like her.” 

“Eh?” 

“Mhm,” the Queen hums with a nod. 

“I do, too,” T’Challa agrees. “You are truly in for a treat when she gets comfortable.” 

“Oh, am I?”

“For the sake of entertainment, hopefully, she will.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Their quarters are quite frankly a dream. 

Is it possible for ceilings that high to be that polished? Should their reflections be seen on the marble floor? Does every room have charm centuries old while still maintaining a futuristic edge that lives in science fiction novels and comic books?

“Wow,” she marvels, running a hand over the immaculately made, overwhelmingly large bed. “ _ Wow _ .”

“Crazy, right?” Erik agrees.

“Can we move here, please?” She removes her heels to stand on the bed and bounce like a child on a trampoline. “I will never ask for anything else if you move us here.” 

“You not asking for something don’t seem likely.” 

“I mean it this time. Or damn, let’s at least honeymoon here,” she says and takes an even slower look around the suite’s glimmering gold accents and tribal decor. “This where you stay when you visit?”

“Yeah.”

“Who decorated?” 

“Who you think?” 

She tilts her head, impressed as she scans the room. “What’s through there?” she wonders aloud, pointing to the far corner at a large set of oak doors with pure gold knobs shaped like a pouncing jaguar head. 

Erik smiles sideways as he makes his way to the doors and hooks his fingers into the knobs not to open the door but press his fingerprints into a covert reader. The opaque black wood fades to transparent glass, opening automatically to reveal an elegant balcony with a perfect view of the horizon and the palace. 

“Oh,” she utters, transfixed by its beauty. “Oh,  _ wow _ .”

“Only thing I requested when they was setting shit up for me was a view I can see the sun rise and set,” he explains and takes her by the hand to show her. 

The balcony is huge, but he takes her right to the edge and puts his arms around her as they lean on the sturdy railing. 

“It’s beautiful.” 

“Ain’t it?”

“Can I say something and you not throw me over this ledge?”

He grunts. 

“I would’ve tried to kill T’Challa over this, too.” 

Erik’s laugh starts as a squeak and erupts into a full blown fit of giggles that make his chest vibrate. “You so stupid.” 

Sienna yawns, resting her head against his chest. “How I sleep for that long and I’m still tired?” 

“I told you jetlag was gon’ hit that ass.” He emphasizes his point with a spank to her backside. “Take you a little nap before they come get you for breakfast.”

“Me?” She twists her neck around to look up at him. “I thought  _ we _ was going to breakfast. ” 

“ _ You _ are going to breakfast with my aunt ‘cus T need me for some bachelor party shit.” 

“T’Challa’s having a bachelor party?” Her eyebrows lift in shock. 

“It took a bit of convincing ‘cus he square as hell going on about tradition and shit, but yeah.” He flashes his gold fangs in a wide grin. “What kinda cousin would I be if I ain’t show out for him?” 

“You using him as an excuse to make it rain on a bunch of strippers.”

“You think T lame-ass going for that? I’on need Nakia beating my ass either.” 

“Yeah, I’m not stepping into that fight.” She turns and wraps her arms around his waist. “So, what will this bachelor party include if y’all not gon’ spend rent on some dancers?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Erik looks her over with a satisfied sigh as he leads them back into the room. “Go on and take a nap. Yo’ ass looked tired as hell.” 

“You tired,” she slurs, yawning on her way to

the Alaskan king bed equipped with the just the right amount of pillows for Erik’s presence to not be missed. “E, this bed huge. There’s room for all of us.” 

“Us?” 

Sienna flops on the bed and doesn’t even bother getting under the comforter. “Me, you, CJ, Krystal, my parents, and Angel.”

“Who the hell is Angel?” 

Sienna’s eyes falter closed slowly as she hugs a pillow to her face. “Prolly the name of the daughter you ain’t know you had,” she shrugs and exhales. “Knowing ya hoe ass, you got a few babies out there. But it’s okay. I’ll love her and I’ll love you.” 

Erik makes a face as he watches her surrender to fatigue and fill the vast space with her stuttered snoring and heavy breathing. 

“You a dumbass,” he decides, smiling to himself. “I’mma see you later.” 

In between deep sleep and being vaguely aware of his words, Sienna shifts about and her middle finger is the last thing Erik sees before leaving their room. 

  
  
\--

As soon as she awakes half an hour later, she’s scrubbing the flight off in the intimidating and complicated shower and doing her makeup with shaky hands. Three failed winged eyeliner attempts later, she opts for a natural, dewy beat that does its best in shielding how rapidly sweat forms on her face. Her hair stays in the bun, but she touches up her edges and keeps a scarf around her head while getting dressed.

“Okay,” she utters to herself, admiring her reflection as she poses in the mirror occupying a wall in the bathroom. “Ya looking a little whorish there, aren’t’cha, girlie?” 

_ Bitch, we look good _ , her white minidress says back, doing all it can to accentuate her figure at every turn. 

“Yeah, I know,” she replies and shakes her head at the ridiculousness of it all. There’s nerves present that didn’t even come on when she met this nigga’s mom. 

She does look good and she shouldn’t be so worried about Ramonda’s opinion to the point where she doesn’t wear what she wants. However, Ramonda’s opinion is law…  _ literally _ . 

It’s not like Erik would dump her if his aunt wasn’t feeling her, but it’d sure help the transition into his family. 

Her ring finger doesn’t look right without its ring even if she’s only had it for a few weeks. It’s not worn often, but she misses it.  It’d somehow ease her jumpy stomach and sweaty palms unattributed to the climate. 

  
\--  
  


A handful of Doras escort Sienna to the garden for breakfast. It’s rude to stare, but it’s hard not to openly admire the warriors in all their glory. She resists poking the tip of one of their gigantic spears since they can and will beat her ass if necessary. 

Ramonda is waiting at the center of the courtyard of cobblestone pathways, neatly trimmed hedges, and blooming flowers under an elegant white canopy. Servants move in and out of the space, assuring the nicest patio table Sienna has ever seen is set and ready for their meal. 

“Sienna,” Ramonda greets her with a smile as soon as she sees her, rising from her seat to take her hand and lead her to the table. Sienna happily complies while the Queens dismiss the Doras and they station outside of the canopy. 

“Please, sit,” she instructs, queuing servants to appear and pull their seats out. Among the dishes placed on the table, the most Sienna recognizes is orange juice and a sliced, fluffy, brown bread loaf. Regardless, the smell entices her and she’s only comfortable digging in when Ramonda makes the first move in filling her plate. 

“You look lost,” Ramonda comments with a knowing smile as she watches Sienna inspect the various foods.

“Can’t say I’m too familiar with any of this,” she admits sheepishly and discreetly wipes her damp palms on her equally damp thighs. 

Ramonda clicks her tongue with a frown and shakes her head as she pokes at a well seasoned cube of meat. “I’m not surprised, but we’re gonna get you right,” she says and transfers the food to her mouth.

“Oh, great.” Sienna points at a plate of crisp, brown balls of dough flaked with powdered sugar. “What’s that?”

“Mandazi,” the Queen answers after swallowing. “It’s basically a doughnut. Try it.” 

Sienna pops the food in her mouth and resists moaning and cussing at the flavor. “That’s fire,” she says, covering her mouth.

“Please, have more. Try everything, dear. I assure you you’ll like it, and whatever you don’t won’t hurt my feelings.” Ramonda sips the tea from her cup, watching Sienna closely as she loads her plate with a sample of everything. 

Sienna definitely enjoys what’s before her to the point where she forgets about her lip gloss and is taken completely back when Ramonda randomly requests, “Tell me about you.” 

In an instant, Sienna forgets who the hell she is; the office building of Sienna’s mind instantly goes up in flames while miniature Siennas scurry around in search of  _ anything _ about her. 

She swallows the wet greens and pats her mouth with a cloth. Obviously, this was to be expected, but the Queen could have at least let her finish her plate before making Sienna use her brain. 

“Where should I start?” Sienna asks and immediately shakes her head. “No, wait, hold up. I know what you mean. I’m from L.A.” 

Ramonda raises an eyebrow. 

“Not that  _ that _ means anything,” Sienna mutters. She gets to wiping her palms again. “I’m from the States, obviously. California, to be specific, ya know where all the Hollywood, weirdo shi— stuff is. But I guess you knew that already.” 

Instead of being horrified by Sienna’s babbling, Ramonda smiles and encourages her to continue with a simple hand gesture. 

Sienna exhales and stares down at her plate. She wasn’t even this nervous meeting Erik. 

“Well, my mama’s from California, too. She’s a psychiatrist,” she starts, twirling her hoop earring. “Daddy’s from Baltimore, but he moved all around since my grandfather was in the Army. Eventually they settled in L.A. too and I came along around the time my father opened his firm. He’s a lawyer, so I guess that’s where I learned to argue.” 

Ramonda chuckles. “Brothers or sisters?”

“No, I’m an only child.” She stirs her steaming tea before taking a sip. “But I grew up with hella cousins, so I wasn’t ever really alone. Went to private school up until ninth grade where I transitioned into public school. It’s kind of a rite of passage for kids in L.A. to try and do entertainment, so I used to act and dance in commercials and stuff until I was, maybe, like, sixteen but I quit it to pursue cosmetics.” 

“Wouldn’t have expected that from the daughter of a doctor and a lawyer.” 

“Believe me, you not the only one,” she recalls. “My father especially wanted something more stable and consistent for me, and if I’m honest, my mom wasn’t feeling it either. They came around to it eventually when they saw there was money in hair and makeup.”

“Ah, yes, Shuri tells me you’re quite the talented beautician. What do you plan to do with that?” 

Sienna smiles at a passing thought. “I’m looking into opening my own beauty bar,” she says wistfully. “We’d specialize in natural hair, but we can still do everything from color to sew-ins. And then there’d be a nail salon attached so after you’ve gotten your hair all did, you get nails to match and then get your makeup done at the counter. Oh, and it’d be pink and sparkly like Barbie.” 

Impressed, Ramonda continues to nod. “You have it all figured out.”

Although she doesn’t agree, Sienna nods anyway and looks back to her plate. “It’s something I been working towards for a while now, but some plans for that got put on hold ‘cus we take care of CJ full time now.” 

“And he  _ isn’t  _ your biological son, is he?” 

“Godson. He just turned sixteen actually, so we’re pretty busy with helping him apply for school and getting him acclimated to a new lifestyle.”

“Sounds like you have enough on your hands.”

“Yeah,” Sienna agrees with a nod, holding her breath as she cautiously stares down the Queen. 

“Yes?” Ramonda questions with her eyebrow arched as she scoops rice onto both of their plates in a way that reminds Sienna of her own aunts. 

Sienna exhales, smiling to herself. “Well, it just feels weird to talk about my life and career without someone asking when E and I having kids.”

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, uh, I guess I’m just used to shutting down when it’s brought up but—” Sienna pauses, gathering her thoughts before spilling her guts to this woman. “You didn’t ask.”

“Well, you’ve just told me you already have a son at home, so why insist for more right now?” she explains between chews, tilting her head to look Sienna over. “As someone with a teenager, I know your hands are full.” 

A mature woman figure in Sienna’s life who isn’t pressing her about having kids? Sienna could cry, and if she weren’t desperate to impress Ramonda, she would right now. 

“If and when you and N’Jadaka decide to have more, you’ll know it’ll be the right choice.” 

Sienna twirls her tea before taking a sip because if she doesn’t occupy her mouth, she’ll begin blabbing about their engagement and invite the entire kingdom. She knew she would like this lady. 

After breakfast, Ramonda and Sienna walk their meal off with a lap around the garden. If there’s one thing Sienna appreciates about Ramonda, it’s that she lets Sienna talk all she wants and actually seems interested in what’s being said. 

“This may sound unbelievable, but my nephew never indulged me in telling me how you two met,” Ramonda informs her, waving her handheld fan. 

Sienna’s ears perk up like a dog’s at the mention of Erik as a rush of heat hits her face again. “He didn’t?” She phrases it as a question, but she’s far from surprised. 

“N’Jadaka is a very private person.” 

“Yeah, who you tellin’?” Sienna mutters and rubs her thumb over her empty ring finger. “Well, it’s not a fantastic story really. Kinda ghetto actually.”

Ramonda chuckles even as Sienna covers her mouth as though to swallow the word back in. 

“Okay, well not ghetto,” she backtracks as the memories of that whole day flood to the forefront of her mind. “Okay, nah, actually. It  _ was _ ghetto. It started off cool, you see. Me, my homegirl, and some of our friends was supposed to go to the carnival but we ended up at some random house party instead. Totally boring until it got shot up, my leg almost fell off ‘cus my stupid behind thought I could run in a new pair of sandals that broke instantly. And your nephew? He was mean the whole night, but he  _ did _ save me from getting shot, patched me up, and lemme chill at his crib until my homegirl came to get me. Not the worst night ever, but I’d never do it again.” 

The Queen nods as she takes it all in with a charmed smirk. “Don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that.” 

“Yeah, it wasn’t no fairytale.” Sienna scans the area, sharing a silent smile of her own with herself. “But it brought me to him, so I can’t complain.” 

With another nod, Ramonda plucks a couple of roses from the path and hands one to Sienna. “You really love him.” 

Sniffing the fresh rose, Sienna shields her grin. 

“I truly used to worry about N’Jadaka for so many reasons,” Ramonda continues, twirling the rose by the stem. “I still do, but I don’t as much anymore. It took me a while to admit I care for him after what happened when he first arrived all those years ago, and it hurts me that I couldn’t protect him the way he deserved.” 

Thoughts of N’Jobu and Krystal flash through Sienna’s mind. “It’s a wonder you ever did forgive him,” she says, looking over at the Queen for a brief moment before turning her attention back to the blooming pathway before them. “I wish I could be ignorant to the things he’s done, but I’m not and I love him despite it all. Makes me kinda stupid, huh?” 

“You can’t help who you love.”

“No, but I wonder how different my life would be if I could,” she admits, tucking the rose into her dress strap. “I don’t know if I’d be with him. My parents brought me up not to judge people, and I didn’t with him. I mean, I did at first, but I felt sorry for him after finding out everything with his father and T’Chaka—” Sienna aborts the sentence and quickly adds, “My condolences about your husband.”

She doesn’t mean it, but the quick save earns her an appreciative nod. 

“He’s everything,” Sienna resumes and scoffs. “That’s so corny and I doubt your people would agree ‘cus of everything that happened, but he really is a changed man. You should see him with our godson. He’s an amazing parent. He’s a protector. A provider. Uh, and he be having me dying laughing—y’all don’t know he’s a clown on the low! And that hard act is fake as Ion know what ‘cus he sweet f’real.” 

“If only we were so lucky to experience that side of him.” 

Sienna frowns. “E is a work in progress. That nig— boy don’t open up easy, so I wouldn’t take it personally.”

“Did he open up to you without issue?”

“It took him a minute,” she answers, idly rubbing her ring finger again. “And then once he did, I couldn’t get rid of him, so I’m stuck with him for life.” 

“When the time comes, you’ll make a beautiful addition to our family,” Ramonda assures her, intertwining her and Sienna's hand to pull the other woman close. “I can tell you’re going to adjust and fit right in.” 

“Really?” Sienna can’t help cheesing at the Queen like she’s taking a yearbook photo. “That’s, like,  _ wow _ . That’s so nice of you to say.” 

“Surely, you knew you would.”

“I did, but I didn’t. I just never thought I’d hear it out loud.” 

Ramonda lifts her eyebrow curiously and clicks her tongue. “Eh?”

Sienna shrugs and squeezes the woman’s hand. “It’s dumb,” she utters. “I don’t know. I was nervous to meet you officially ‘cus I was thinking on some ‘what if she don’t like me’ type stuff.”

“Do you think something would change between you and N’Jadaka if I hadn’t?”

“No,” Sienna replies, shaking her head. “But it’d just be nice that his family accepted me, ya know? God, that’s so dumb, but you get me, right?”

“I do,” Ramonda agrees, patting Sienna’s hand. “I was in your position once, too. Impressing not only T’Chaka and his parents but a little T’Challa too kept me up many nights. It’s not an easy world to step into, but you’ll do it with grace when the time comes.” 

_ When the time comes… _

Sienna exhales wearily at the thought of it. 

“As long as I can keep my life as is, then I think so, too.” 

They walk the garden, getting so lost in conversation that lunch time approaches. 

  
  


\-- 

The only bachelorette party Sienna’s ever been to was years ago for her friend, Aniyah. Getting belligerently drunk, flashing her titties to strangers, and breaking a random off to “Get Low” by Lil’ Jon and The Eastside Boyz made for a lit night, but Sienna doubts any of that will be occurring tonight at Nakia’s party. 

“Makeup for a bachelorette party,” Erik comments, surveying his outfit options and laying them out on the bed. “If I ain’t know any better, I’d think you was tryna get you a new nigga out here.” 

“You really think I need makeup to pull niggas?” Sienna replies from the middle of the bed, focused on applying a glittery gold wing. 

Erik snorts. “Did they even tell you where you was going?” 

“Nah, but I’mma look bomb when I go.” Sienna sucks her teeth realizing one wing is thicker than the other. “Stop talking to me. You messing me up.” 

“I ain’t do shit.” 

“Where are you going?” Sienna asks, attempting to make the other wing thicker. 

“I tried convincing T to go to a club, but we compromised on a lounge,” he answers, buttoning up his sheer black top. “ _ No strippers and no weed, N’Jadaka _ ,” he imitates his cousin with a wag of his finger. 

“You better get him  _ drunk _ drunk.” 

“I plan to.”

“You getting fucked up?” 

Erik shakes his head and adjusts his sleeves. “I can hold my liquor.” 

Sienna pulls away from the handheld mirror to inspect her fiancé. “Ya titties out and shit,” she scoffs, pointing to his ensemble with her precision eyeliner brush. “You the one I should be worried about finding a new bitch.” 

“You know nobody ‘round here like me like that.” 

Sienna brings the mirror to her face again and blinks flirtatiously at her reflection. “Yeah, you are kind of a menace, aren’t you? Come look at my face.” 

Erik glances up from his watch selection. “Nice.” 

“ _ Nice _ ,”she grunts and beckons him with a frantic hand. “Boy, come here and look. This shit took time.”

Before she can even blink, Erik’s on the bed with face in hers. 

“Nice,” he repeats with a suggestive smirk, barely taking a moment to appreciate the beat. 

“That’s it?”

He narrows his eyes with a slight turn of his head. “Yeah, that’s it.”

“You the worst at compliments. Like, damn, hype me up.” 

“And make your head bigger than it already is?”

“I know  _ you  _ not talking ‘bout somebody head being big,” she says and lifts the mirror. “Boy, fuck you. I look good.”

“Then what you need me to tell you that for?” 

“Shut up and get dressed.”

Erik scoots her makeup out of the way to make room and lay his head on her thigh. “You soft.” 

Instinctively, Sienna starts scratching his scalp. “Your Aunt and I had a good day.” 

“I heard.” 

“She said I was the first fat bitch you brought home to meet her.”

He exhales and it quickly stutters into a laugh. “I’m glad you hit it off.”

“You know she really love you, right?” Sienna pulls her hand away to resume her makeup. “She see you as a son.” 

“So I been told.” 

“You don’t sound so sure.”

Erik shrugs. “It’s not something I think about often.”

Sienna arches her brow with a skeptic glance down at him but decides not to push it. “And what do you think about?”

“Wouldn’t yo’ nosey ass like to know,” he mutters, blinking up at the ceiling and randomly grabbing a tube of highlighter. “What’chu thinking about?” 

“Nunya.”

“Glad we starting our marriage off so communicative.”

“We not married yet.”

Erik pretends to read the label and smacks his teeth. “We been married since you said yes. Fuck you talmbout.”

“God forbid if ya stupid ass die tomorrow, I don’t get shit. Fuck kinda logic.”

“That’s what you get.” A smile stretches over his face. “If I die, you going with me so it don’t matter.”

“Yeah, a’ight.”

“I’m dead serious.”

With a satisfied, nude kiss to her reflection, Sienna tosses her mirror to the side, snathes back her highlighter and focuses her full attention to her fiance. “You know what, big head? You right. Wherever you go, I go,” she tells him, laying the sarcasm on as thick as possible. “But one wedding at a time, babe. Let’s get T and Nakia married first.”

His large brown eyes roll up and to the side as he averts her gaze. 

“I been thinking,” he begins after a brief silence.

“That explains the smoke coming out your ears.”

“Girl, fuck you,” he murmurs and pinches her meaty thigh. “When we get back home, we should make shit legit.” 

Sienna leans back on her hands and turns her head sideways. “What’chu mean?”

“We should go to the courthouse,” he suggests and turns to face her on his stomach. “Get our papers together and shit.” 

“Get married,” she clarifies. 

Erik matches the unintentional grimace plaguing her face. “I know we agreed to do everything after CJ graduates, but it’s not an ordeal to go get a license and make it official.”

“We haven’t even told anybody,” she reminds him.

“We told our parents.” 

“Okay, but our friends? Extended family?” 

“Why they gotta be in our business about it?” he replies. “They’ll know when we actually plan a wedding and invite all they asses.”

“Oh, my god, that’s not how it’s supposed to be done,” she groans. “What rush are you in?” 

“Four years ain’t rushing nothing.” 

She regards him like he’s grown a second head, shaking hers as she blinks past her utter confusion. “It’s only been three weeks since you even proposed, babe.” 

“So?” Erik grunts and shrugs his wide shoulders. 

“Are you dying? Is that why you wanna do this now?”

“Ain’t nobody dying,” he assures her, curling his lip. “Being around T and them all day got me thinking and shit.”

“You shouldn’t wanna get married just cus everyone else is.” Sienna rolls off of her spot and makes her way to the bathroom with Erik on her heels. “I mean there’s a lot we gotta talk about when it comes to actually doing it, E. We haven’t even talked about who claiming CJ on they taxes.”

“I’ll claim him,” Erik says, leaning on the tall threshold. “Shit, I’ll adopt him too.” 

Sienna gazes passed her reflection to watch him watch her, skin prickling at the determination set in his features. Her hair doesn’t need fixing but she busies herself with swooping her edges to avoid paying him any attention. 

His wandering eyes persist against his faltering annoyed expression. “I know it’s sudden, but it’s not just about T and Nakia. Ever since I got that ring, I been thinking ‘bout it,” he admits with such sincerity that Sienna can’t help looking up at him. “At least consider it.”

“I don’t wanna go to a courthouse and get married.”

“Princess,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know it’s not ideal, but—”

“But nothing,” she stops him. “We’re not getting married in a courthouse if we have the means to actually have a ceremony with our friends and family.” 

“Is that what it’s about? A ceremony? We can still have the whole sha-bang, get you a pretty dress and show out,” he promises. “But this just one thing I’m asking for.” 

She swallows back another groan and shakes her head again. “It’s not a simple favor like washing your car. This affects me, too, E.” 

He nods. “I know what.”

“Do you?” 

Much to her surprise, his demeanor is calm. Instead of fussing, he just exhales and reaches for her waist. His face finds a home in her neck as he encases her with an affectionate squeeze. Her arms join his around her midriff. 

“I do. I really do,” Erik clarifies, voice muffled into her skin. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s just something to think about.” 

Sienna stares at them in the mirror, unrecognizing yet impressed by his unprompted gentleness in the face of a disagreement. 

Not fighting is nice. 

“We have to tell your family.” 

He grunts. 

“I’m serious, baby.”

“I know.” 

“They’ll be happy!”

“They gon’ be nosey as fuck asking when we getting married.” 

Ramonda immediately flashes in the forefront of Sienna’s mind. She bites her lip in thought and releases a heavy sigh. 

“I don’t think they will,” she insists. “It’s my family you gotta worry about.” 

“I’d rather deal with it from them than Ramonda.” 

His grip tightens. 

Mind drifting farther and farther from the bachelorette party the longer she stands there in his arms, Sienna momentarily imagines going to the courthouse and exchanging vows with this man in front of a complete stranger. 

All it takes is a piece of paper, and they’re married. That’s it. 

To say she’s disappointed with the prospect is an understatement. 

Erik buries himself deeper into her as she frowns up at the high golden ceilings. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


On instinct, Sienna’s arms are wide and inviting as she prepares to receive Shuri for a big hug. The two Doras escorting the young girl cross their spears in a protective barrier immediately stopping Sienna in her tracks and inching her back with an embarrassing squeak. One of them begins rolling Xhosa off the tongue too quickly for Sienna to catch a word she might recognize, but ferocity transcends languages.

“Ooh,” she says, hands clutching her own chest. It kinda turns her on, but that’s something she’ll deal with later. 

Shuri puts her hand up and orders them in their native language to ease up. Their spears return to their sides while they watch their interaction closely. 

“It’s so good to see you, cuzzo,” Sienna says, going in for a hug and completely enveloping Shuri. “Ugh, honey, I missed the hell outta you. I can only deal with ya big headed cousin for so long.” 

Shuri rubs Sienna’s back and squeezes. “We pray to Bast everyday that you find the strength to endure him.” 

“Pray harder.” Sienna smiles, and despite her lipstick, she kisses Shuri on her cheek when they pull away from the embrace and follow the Doras to the elevator. “So, how has my favorite girl been?” 

“Aside from being driven absolutely crazy by my brother putting together a wedding? Perfectly fine!”

“Now why’s that  _ your _ responsibility?” Sienna wonders, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I didn’t think that kinda stuff would be up your alley.” 

“I assure you, nothing is not up my alley,” she informs her with that signature smirk. “I was just dumb enough to offer to help plan it!” 

“What a good lil’ sis you are.” 

Shuri rolls her eyes upward and watches the nighttime Wakandan scenery go by through the glass walls of the elevator. “Which is why I absolutely need this girl’s night.” 

“You sound like a single mom of four.” 

Shuri chuckles and it’s only then does she notice Sienna’s dress, heels, makeup, and hair. “And just where do you think you’re going?” she wonders, pointing a finger up and down Sienna’s frame. 

“I mean, issa bachelorette party,” she answers and glances down at her breasts sitting high in her mini corset dress and wrists iced out in mostly Erik’s jewelry. “This my bachelorette party look. You think it’s too much?” 

“You do know we’re staying in, don't you?” 

Sienna blinks at the girl. “What?”

Shuri’s laugh would annoy Sienna if it didn’t sound like sunshine. “Nakia is very low key and insisted we do something quiet.” 

The bracelets seem to make that much more noise as Shuri says that, annoying Sienna further. A sour taste floods her mouth at Shuri’s sweatpants, slippers, overnight bag haunting and mocking her ostentatious get-up. 

“I did  _ not _ know that.” 

“Did N’Jadaka not tell you?” 

“I didn’t realise  _ N’Jadaka _ was supposed to,” Sienna huffs. “I’m gonna look like an idiot.” 

“You look beautiful!” Shuri assures her, looping their arms together as they strut off of the elevator down yet another extended hallway. “You’ve always been over the top, Sisi. To be fair, no one would’ve expected that the future Princess of Wakanda would want a sleepover bachelorette party.” 

“I guess. Just wish I knew. I had a onesie packed that E wouldn’t let me bring that would’ve been perfect for this.” Sienna’s pout lasts about a second before her face lights up. “Oh, my god. This’ll be a  _ Princess Diaries _ moment.”

“Eh?” 

Sienna side eyes her and stops walking, halting the Doras. 

“You’ve never seen  _ Princess Diaries _ ?” 

Shuri’s eyes narrow. “Of course, I have.”

“ _ Royal Engagement _ ?!” Sienna continues. 

“Calm down, lady. I understood the reference, but if you thought you were going to perform a show tune with my mother, you are sorely mistaken.”

They start walking again and Sienna’s hands fly up in defeat. “Why is it every time I mention a movie with someone in this family, you guys look at me like I’m crazy?”

“In my defense, I am very busy. I cannot speak for my cousin.”

“Oh, he’s busy getting on my nerves.” 

“Seems like a full-time job.”

“You have no idea.”

Before Shuri can get another word out, the Doras stop at the end of the hallway before large, black double doors gracing the glass ceiling. Their back muscles barely strain as they open each door, and knowing they could beat her ass tickles Sienna. 

“I’mma start working out,” she says to Shuri as they enter the chamber. “Y’all out here reminding me my fat ass can’t do shit.”

“Oh, M’Baku is going to  _ love  _ you,” Shuri snickers.

“Who—?” Sienna mutters, but the remainder of her sentence is aborted by the shock of Nakia exiting a  boudoir in a floor length, silk robe with half of her hair braided, a face mask sheet, and holding a glass of what looks like champagne. 

“Late as always, eh,  _ usisi _ ?” she complains with forged annoyance. 

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Shuri waves it off. 

The domesticity of it all opposes how Sienna imagined the woman that Erik once described as the “Wakandan Wonder Woman.” Even with her red hair sticking up and white face mask smudged on her face, not a single flaw is present. 

For a brief and flippant moment, Sienna comes to terms with the fact that she got with the ugliest member of the family. 

Distracted by taking her in for the first time, Sienna almost misses the introduction and awkwardly smiles with tight, glossy lips when Shuri gestures to her. 

“It is so nice to finally meet you!” Nakia greets, throwing Sienna off even more when she goes in for a hug. Sienna returns the sentiment, knees going weak at the crisp cucumber and fresh laundry scent gracing Nakia’s aura.

“Hi,” she says as they pull apart, and she shoots Shuri a warning glare when she chuckles at her nervousness. 

“T’Challa told me you were flashy, but I was not expecting this,” she continues, eyes scanning Sienna’s stature. “Bast,  _ this dress. _ ”

“I, uh, didn’t know this was gon’ be some’ lowkey until about five minutes ago,” she explains, putting her hands behind her back as if that’ll block the view of her flashing wrists. “I had a onesie—”

“Ah, don’t worry. We have something for you if you would at some point like to change,” Nakia reassures with a wave towards the boudoir connected to the main entryway. “The original plan was to do something outrageous, but I haven’t gotten an opportunity to relax and breathe, you know?”

“I do!” Shuri interjects and follows close behind Nakia into the salon where another handful of women in long robes similar to Nakia’s are laid out in spa chairs with face masks while some get their hair braided and others get their nails done. 

This is ten times better than going out. 

Granted, Sienna would’ve been more in her element drinking hard liquor and dancing while tossing Erik’s money at a stripper with a fat ass, but this is  _ heavenly _ . 

“Here,” Shuri says, handing Sienna a flute of champagne with a strawberry sizzling to the bottom. “You look like you need it.”

“Do I look that nervous?” 

“Hmmph,” Shuri hums, stopping a passing petite employee to have a quick exchange Sienna cannot hope to understand as Shuri pushes her forward. 

“Follow Riwa,” Shuri instructs and taps her backside. “Go! Get!”

Sienna obeys, following Riwa into a dressing room at the other end of the salon as she sips delicately on her drink and smacks her lips at the tangy aftertaste. She’s given a tank top and shorts combo and the same matching robe and slippers set to change into that admittedly looks better with the chain and bracelets than her original outfit did. 

“See, you look more comfortable already,” Shuri tells Sienna as she exits the dressing room. 

Sienna nods in agreement. “Not gon’ lie, that dress was squeezing my insides and them Spanx was hell,” she laughs at herself, tapping her nails against the glass and glancing around. “So, uh, what’s next?” 

“What’s next is getting you pampered and even prettier than you already are,” Nakia answers, face mask sheet gone as she comes from behind and playfully jostles Shuri out of the way. “What do you say to a facial?” 

Sienna clings to the word “prettier” and is a second away from asking the woman if she’d like to make out before it clicks. 

“Uh, sure, yeah. A facial sounds fun.” 

“She just did her makeup, Nakia!” Shuri reminds her. 

“It’s fine!” Sienna interjects, but Nakia is already shaking her head with a caring hand on Sienna’s shoulder. 

“We can start with something else if a facial doesn’t suit you,” she says, pointing towards a circle of nail technicians doing manicures. “Nails, perhaps?”

Sienna doesn’t know what has her flushed, but she glances down at her milky soft white manicure to avoid them noticing the clear embarrassment that flashes across her face. “Well—”

Nakia follows her gaze and clicks her tongue in understanding. “It’s okay.” She sips from her glass and starts towards another room off the other side of the salon. “There’s more to a spa than nails and skin. We’ll figure it out, but until we do, you want to sit and keep me company?” 

The invitation is saccharine sweet with an edge of demand that makes the question sound like a solution. 

Before she can stop it, another employee is ushering her and Nakia to vanities covered in styling tools and multiple colored packs of kanekalon hair at the ready. As soon as Nakia sits in the swivel chair and without a moment of pause, a stylist’s hands are in Nakia’s hair resuming their work. 

Sienna glances from the vanity next to Nakia’s, the stylist awaiting her to sit, an unbothered Nakia admiring the work, and behind her to see where Shuri ran off to. The rest of the women getting their hair done pay her little to no attention, even if it does feel like their glares bore holes into her skin.

“This’ll last me far past the honeymoon,” Nakia says aloud. 

Unsure of just who she’s talking to, Sienna nods and taps her glass. “It’s a beautiful style.” 

Nakia looks up at Sienna, grinning like the cat that got the canary. “Sit, girl. We don’t bite.” 

Sienna sets her glass down as she sits and pops right back up out of the seat when the stylist tugs on her wig. 

“Whoa!” she yelps, hands flying atop her head and putting on her most polite smile. “This joint glued down, ma’am.” 

The stylist begins a heartfelt apology in her mother tongue that Sienna nods at in perplexment. The other party guests regard her like she’s crazy, but she avoids their curious gazes as best she can. 

Nakia says something now, most likely explaining to the stylist and then gesturing to the seat. “It is okay, Sisi,” she says. “We can just sit and talk.” 

“A‘ight,” she agrees quietly before sitting back down. Nakia’s smile makes it easy to relax, and embarrassment washes over Sienna again. “I ain’t mean to flip out like that—”

“I understand.” Nakia nods. “It is a little different around here compared to where you’re from.” 

“A little.” 

“T’Challa told me about your work. You are a beautician, yes?”

“I am.” Sienna counts off her fingers. “Been doing it officially for about, like, six years now.” 

“Can I see some of your work?” 

“Oh, absolutely!” 

Sienna whips her phone from her pocket, opens Instagram and switches to her business account for Nakia to browse through. 

“Wow,” she says with each scroll. “These are gorgeous.” 

Butterflies flutter within Sienna’s stomach. “Oh, thank you,” she beams, cheeks burning red. “I do a’ight if I say so myself.” 

“I would’ve hired you as my makeup artist for the big day if I’d known you were this good.” Nakia locks and hands Sienna her phone. 

“That’s nice of you to say.”

“I’m serious.”

It sounds sincere, but Sienna doesn’t take it to heart. Regardless, her smile doesn’t diminish. “Thank you. You nervous?” 

“For?”

“Ya know, to walk down the aisle.”

Nakia smacks her lips and lets out a lighthearted chortle. “Ah, I’ve done missions scarier than this.” 

“Not even a little?” 

“No.” Nakia’s smile curves to the side cheekily. “Nervous? No. Excited and giddy, yes.” 

“I can only imagine.”

“Imagine?” she repeats. “I’ve heard through the grapevine that you and N’Jadaka are next.”

The sound that emits from Sienna is a mix of a squeak and a grunt. Her voice lowers to a hush as she leans in and asks, “How did you know?”

Nakia swiftly retrieves Sienna’s phone from her hand and it comes to life, showing off her and Erik in each other’s arms as her lock screen. 

“The ring is beautiful ” Nakia compliments with a tap to the jewelry very plainly shown on Sienna’s left hand in the photo. “Suits you.” 

“How the hell did you catch that?” Sienna wonders aloud, taking her phone back, amazed and irritated all in one. 

“I wouldn’t be Wakandan’s best spy if I didn’t notice tiny details.” Nakia pats her shoulder again. “When did it happen?”

“‘Bout three weeks ago.” Sienna grins down at her lock screen. “It was impromptu as hell. Total accident and totally unplanned, but real sweet nonetheless.” 

“Why haven’t you told anyone?”

“We told our parents and son, but we swore them to secrecy. We just waiting on the right time to tell  _ everyone _ everyone.”

“Hmmm,” Nakia hums and looks back into the mirror. “I didn’t realize you had children.” 

“Oh, well, technically he’s our godson, but we see him as our own. We wanna get him through school and stuff before we focus on a wedding.” Sienna explains. 

“Smart. Your secret is safe with me. Just make sure you invite me to  _ your _ bachelorette party.” 

Nakia winks at her, causing a ripple effect of butterflies to flutter beyond her stomach and down her legs. 

“If you can get down to Beyoncé and take body shots, you’ll fit right in.” 

“Oh, I see,” Nakia laughs. “You're a party girl.” 

“You could say I know my way around a good time.” 

“I haven’t been to a party in a long time,” she tells Sienna. “Last I remember was before I left for university, but everything after has been a constant rush of work. Rarely will I get a mission where I will get to put my feet up or cut loose.” 

“You been wanting to, huh?”

Nakia looks up in thought and scrunches her plump lips. “Eh,” she says. “I’m in my thirties now. I’m not as impressed by the thrill anymore.” 

“You deserve this.” Sienna absently twirls the ends of her wig. “I’m sure every little girl dreams of their wedding day, and when it comes, I’d imagine it’s like a fantasy.”

“My fiancé has made it very easy to feel that way, yes.” Nakia pokes Sienna’s arm. “But I suppose that’s the blessing in marrying the King of Wakanda.” 

The title alone sends a chill down Sienna’s spine. “Blessing, yeah,” she agrees, eyes dropping down to her lock screen again. “But you don’t care about that shit, do you?” 

Nakia lifts an eyebrow. 

“Like, he’s the King to everyone else, but he’s just T’Challa to you.” 

“Exactly.” Nakia tips her glass in Sienna’s direction. “He’s made it a point to never make me feel like I’m sharing him with the rest of the country. I’ve never cared for a title or a throne. It was always just about him, you know?” 

Before Sienna can agree, Nakia is poking her again and clicking her tongue knowingly. “Of course, you know,” she continues. “We’re in the same boat.” 

“Yeah,” Sienna utters, adjusting herself in the fair to rest her head on the back. “I mean, it’s different in a way. N’Jadaka’s boat is big and full of baggage, but I’m okay with it.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less,” Nakia understands. “T’Challa has his own story, too, but I cannot imagine it is as loaded as N’Jadaka’s. You’re a strong woman to endure his traumas as your own.” 

“I’m not strong for that,” Sienna scoffs.

“No?”

“No,” she says with a shake of the head. “I know his past is rough, but I’m not strong for loving him through it. It’s not hard to love him. And like you said, it’s not about a title or a throne. It’s just  _ him _ .” 

The stylist next to Sienna’s station leans down to indiscreetly whisper something to her client and N’Jadaka’s name thrown into the mix of words has Sienna swiveling around to face them. They fall into silence instantly at the inquisitive look planted on Sienna’s face and resume their appointment as though nothing was said. 

She may not speak their language, but she knows an unfriendly tone when she hears it. 

Nakia covers her mouth with a hand to shield her grin. When Sienna turns back and catches a glimpse of her reddening face in the mirror, she unclenches her fists and jaw and exhales. 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles. “It’s just… There’s just… It  _ is  _ different. Ramonda and I talked about this, too.”

Nakia lifts her eyebrow again, waiting for her to continue. 

“I’m not gon’ sit here and pretend he and T’Challa are the same. You know like I know they’re not,” she explains. “You and I aren’t even the same. We’re marrying into this family, but that’s the extent of it. There’s elegance and respect in marrying the King, not the King’s crazy-ass cousin.”

If Nakia has something to say, Sienna cuts it off, finishing her point with vigored conviction. 

“And even if he hadn’t done what he did when he came here, they’d still look at him as an outsider and his father as a traitor. Right?” 

The question is rhetorical, but Nakia’s  illegible expression answers it enough. 

“I can’t speak for everyone else, but we do see N’Jadaka as a part of this family—” Nakia begins, but the fortitude to interrupt fuels Sienna to do so. 

“You don’t have to pretend that you like him or even care about him just ‘cus you’re marrying his cousin.”

A furrow creases between Nakia’s eyebrows as her eyes narrow at Sienna suspiciously. “I forgave him,” she tells her. “It would weigh on my soul if I didn’t.”

Unable to decipher if Nakia means it, Sienna nods. “Is it weird to not be able to see how you could?”

Nakia shakes her head. “We all process things differently.” 

With her tongue pressed against her cheek, Sienna stares at her empty ring finger and sighs heavily. “Maybe you’re stronger than I am for enduring it when you did.” 

“Endurance and forgiveness are not the same thing,  _ busi _ ,” Nakia shrugs. “So, we  _ are _ different.” 

“Variety is the spice of life.” 

“Speaking of spice—” Nakia calls to a stylist

busying herself with sweeping the floor of hair and gestures to Sienna as they speak in their mother language. When the stylist disappears, Nakia taps Sienna’s elbow. 

“You think you’d be comfortable enough to get a little something done? For me?”

Now that she’s a little more relaxed and comfortable, Sienna can’t turn down a free session. The wig, as nice as it is, is quite ridiculous in the midst of all the natural hairstyles since she’s been here. 

“Yeah, but are we gonna have time? I mean this kinda thing usually takes hours.”

“Are you in a rush?”

“I mean no, but—”

“Then sit back and relax. I’ll stay with you.” Nakia sips down the remainder of her champagne and an employee fills the flute before the glass can touch the table. “N’Jadaka can survive a few hours without you.” 

  
  
  


Sienna’s hair isn’t finished until after three in the morning, and as promised, Nakia keeps her company well after her own hair is styled and wrapped under a scarf and bonnet. Getting to know the future Queen makes eight hours feel like eight minutes and before she knows it, Sienna’s being escorted back to Erik’s level by a different pair of Doras than before. 

Instead of nestled in the bed like she’d expected, her fiancé is sprawled on his back across the sectional aside the bed, snoring his heart away. Judging by his one shoe, jewelry still around his neck instead of in the travel case, and clutching a half empty bottle of what smells like rocket fuel, Erik had a good time. 

“I can hold my liquor,” she mimics him from earlier as she sets her phone, wig, dress, and shoes on the coffee table and retrieves the bottle from his hand.

“Ooh, I just know ya ass gon’ be hungover tomorrow,” she whispers to more herself than him, removing his other shoe and carefully unlinking the jewelry around his neck. He barely stirs, which lets her know he won’t be making it onto the bed on his own.

“You lucky I love you,” she grunts, pulling on his arm with what little strength she can muster since she’s a little tipsy herself. He moves half an inch, snoring loudly at the slight disturbance to emphasize the point. 

After a handful of attempts to get him up, Sienna mutters a defeated “fuck it” and decides the couch and a blanket will suffice. It’s a struggle on her biceps and tired mental state getting the back length, heavy Fulani braids with beads in her regular sized bonnet, but eventually every strand is tucked away safely. 

Durag in hand, Sienna saunters back over to the couch, leans over his body to wrap his locs up and presses a kiss to his cheek. 

“Goodnight, Daka,” she murmurs on her way over to the bed. 

Riddled with exhaustion, sleep takes over her body within minutes. 


	2. ii.

T’Challa is a patient man; he’s the most levelheaded person anybody’s ever known, and it takes a lot to get him agitated. 

However, he pretty much loses his mind the second Sienna and a very casually dressed Erik enter the main banquet hall for the rehearsal dinner. 

“Please, tell me you don’t have on a jersey for my rehearsal dinner. Please, tell me you don’t,” he begs, index and middle finger massaging his temple as he stares down Erik’s Lakers jersey, black jeans, various rings and chains, and Nikes. To say he sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the other guests wearing ball gowns and cocktail attire is an understatement. 

“It’s Kobe,” Erik tells him. T’Challa’s eyes flash over to Sienna, clad in a floor length baby blue sequined strapless number and white Louboutins, shaking her head in solidarity. 

“I tried to get him to dress up,” she explains. 

“You dressed nicer for the bachelor party!” 

Erik shrugs. “Is it really that big a—”

“Ah, for Bast’s sake, N’Jadaka, go back and change before Nakia sees you,” T’Challa instructs, nervously looking behind him to assure his bride-to-be is nowhere around.

Shuri, in an elegant tribal printed gown, comes behind T’Challa, shaking her head at Erik’s outfit too. “Have you no shame? Your own cousin’s wedding?” she asks with a lilt of humor. 

“Now is not the time to instigate,” T’Challa tells her, but she grins nonetheless. “Be useful and go distract Nakia and Mama until N’Jadaka gets back.” 

“Why do that when I could just watch them rip him a new one, brother?” 

The look he regards her with is nothing short of panicked desperation, so she concedes with an eye roll and disappears the way she came. 

“Go,” T’Challa says, and he and Erik have a stare down until the latter falters, sucks his teeth and tugs on Sienna’s hand. 

“A'ight, fine,” he grumbles. “Let’s go, baby.” 

“You are a big boy,” T’Challa protests tiredly. “You are able to get dressed by yourself, if that is okay with Sienna.” 

Sienna shrugs up at her fiancé and touches his bare shoulder in reassurance. “I’ll be a’ight.”

Erik’s mouth twists funnily, glancing between her and his cousin while he deliberates. “Yeah, okay,” he mumbles as he lets her hand go, eyes settling on T’Challa. “Watch my girl, bro.” 

“She is in safe hands,  _ umzala. _ ” T’Challa loops his arm around Sienna’s and gives Erik a departing look before turning to rejoin the party. 

“What are we going to do with him?” T’Challa jokes, looking down at Sienna with a broad smile. 

“Boy, that’s  _ your _ cousin,” she laughs. “You on your own. I’ve made my peace with his fuckery.” 

T’Challa’s laugh is melodic and contagious. “You two are too much.”

“Well, he not gon’ say it, then I will. We happy to be here, T.” 

“Oh, I know,” he agrees. “N’Jadaka has a special way of showing his appreciation. Drink?” T’Challa gestures to the glass bar crowded by guests. 

“Ooh, what y’all got?” Sienna rubs her hands together, surveying the selection of liquor in fancy bottles displayed behind the bar. “I hope you got some’ good cus I like to  _ drink  _ drink. Let’s get drunk.” 

“If we didn’t have a ceremony tomorrow, I suppose I could see you on that offer.”

“A’ight, so, let’s get it poppin’ tomorrow at the reception then,” she suggests and nudges his side playfully. “What? The King of Wakanda too bougie to let loose on his wedding night?” 

“If only you knew how we get down over here,” he snickers and grabs the attention of the barkeep to order two gin and tonics. 

Sipping on her drink tenderly, Sienna surveys the room and takes in the strange faces for the one or two she might know. As ordered, Shuri occupies Nakia with drinks, Ramonda is deep in conversation with some very important-looking monarchs of a neighboring nation, and Okoye oversees the room with a watchful eye. 

Out of nowhere, a voice deep enough to shake the building blinks her out of her trance, and she looks over and up at its owner.

Sienna’s mother taught her that it was rude to point and stare. She knows this, so she resists pointing when the gigantic hunk of man with tree trunks for thighs and arms eases into her personal space and repeats himself when she stares at him like she’s never seen a man before. 

Sienna blinks, surveying the man’s smooth dark skin, full beard, kind eyes, and gap within his glistening smile all at once. “I—,” she starts and resists rolling her eyes back at the strength of his oriental cologne. “I’m, uh—”

“M’Baku, you stun the poor girl,” T’Challa greets with a smile of his own. “She doesn’t speak Xhosa.” 

“Eh?” The dreamboat, M’Baku, glances at him and then nods at her. 

“I’m not from here,” she explains and twirls her drink. 

“She speaks,” he snorts and leans in even closer, completely eclipsing her frame with his own. “You are Western? I can tell.” 

“California, to be specific.” 

“Really western,” he says, shamelessly trailing and down her body with a smirk. “My King, I did not realize you meant it when you said you’d be opening our borders so wide.” 

“She is here with Prince N’Jadaka. Play nice.” 

“Eh, you are here with Prince Puny?” M’Baku scoffs with a thunderous laugh and a smack to his chest. 

“Puny,” Sienna repeats, narrowing her gaze and taking a sip of her drink. “Are we projecting?” 

T’Challa snickers under his breath and shakes his head. She very well could’ve just insulted someone majorly important, but Sienna wouldn’t be Sienna if she didn’t defend her man. 

But M’Baku takes the comment in jest and continues to laugh warmly, extending his hand. “I am M’Baku, Lord of the Jabari Tribe.” 

Sienna takes his hand and watches with a quirked eyebrow as he brings his hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles. 

“Sienna. Princess of California.” 

“I did not realize America had a monarchy.” 

“They don’t,” T’Challa corrects him and rolls his eyes at the insistent flirting. 

“Well, if they did,” M’Baku continues, releasing Sienna’s hand and pointing at her. “You’d make a fine Queen.” 

“Man, getcho big ass on!” Erik’s voice rings clear as he approaches the bar. In place of the jersey and jeans, there’s a well-tailored suit, boots, and a precious bow tie. 

“Ah, I was wondering why it was so quiet,” M’Baku practically yells, smirking at Erik like the cat that got the canary. “What kind of man leaves his beautiful lady alone for any suitor to appear and sweep her off her feet?” 

Erik gives him a once-over as his arm wraps protectively around Sienna’s waist to pull her in. “With all them damn kids you got only thing you sweeping is goldfish cracker crumbs, Kimbo,” he says with a grin and playfully nudges M’Baku’s elbow. “Man, where is  _ your _ wife at while you out here tryna push on mine?” 

“She decided to stay home from the festivities,” he answers, waving a hand about dismissively. “Third trimester and all.” 

“How many kids do you have?” Sienna asks, passing her drink over to Erik who finishes it off like it’s water. 

“This will be number eight in the winter.” 

“You have  _ eight _ kids?” she clarifies, eyes going wide with disbelief. Well, the man  _ is _ fine, so it’s not that hard to believe someone would be willing to pop out eight whole kids for him. 

“Is that not normal in the Americas?” he asks, unimpressed. 

“Uh, nah, I wouldn’t say so.” 

“How many kids do  _ you _ have?” 

“One,” she answers. 

“You are young,” M’Baku says, ignoring Erik’s furrowing eyebrows. “If you are interested in having more, I would be happy to oblige.” 

“And that is our cue to walk away.” T’Challa grabs Erik first before he can react and doesn’t let him turn back around until they’re out of earshot. 

Sienna follows close behind, shooting M’Baku a look back that translates to  _ you gon’ get somebody killed, man. _

“I don’t know why you keep inviting his Jolly Green Giant ass to these functions when you know he like to fuck with everybody,” Erik grumbles to his cousin, taking Sienna’s hand in his when she approaches his side. 

T’Challa exhales. “I can’t be in charge of everyone’s behavior.” 

“Oh, he can go around being Señor Horny but I gotta change my Kobe jersey.” 

“To be fair, babe, he was being Señor Horny in a tux,” Sienna adds, simpering up at him when he side-eyes her. 

“Relax, N’Jadaka.” T’Challa jostles his shoulder and pats his back. “You know M’Baku and you know not to take it to heart. Mingle. Enjoy a dance with your date. We’ve a long night ahead.” 

With that, T’Challa departs to find his own date, leaving the two of them to look lost among the sea of random guests they don’t know. 

“It’s a lot of niggas here,” Sienna comments, taking Erik’s other hand.

“Nah, they black.  _ We’re _ niggas.”

Sienna giggles and takes Erik’s other hand in hers. “Dance with me.” 

“I can’t get down to this soft ass church shit,” he grumbles, glaring at the massive string quartet on the other end of the room but taking her in regardless. 

“I think it’s kinda nice.” 

“You know they only doing this fancy shit to impress they white guests.” 

Sienna shrugs, letting Erik sway them about the dance floor. “Well.” 

“Promise me we not gon’ do no corny shit like this.” 

“So  _ now _ you want a wedding?” 

Erik rolls his eyes. “All I said was that I wanted something private and official when we go home. I never said I ain’t want a wedding.” 

“Coulda fooled me,” she teases, pecking his jaw and then wiping away peachy lip gloss residue from his beard. “Had me thinking you wanted some private shit so no one knew you was marrying the fat bitch.” 

Erik hides his laughter in her neck, shoulders bouncing with each giggle. “ _ The _ fat bitch,” he repeats with a wheeze. “You so goddamn dumb. You know that?” 

She can’t help laughing too. “Nah, we not gon’ have no shit like this. I want a big poofy dress, cream tones ‘cus white is played out, and a music selection that’s not gon’ make me wanna go to sleep.” 

“Cream sounds expensive.” 

“You better get to selling your body ‘cus I want flashy. I want big. I want—”

“What about what I want?” Erik lifts his head, eyebrow raised in question. 

“You’re just the groom. Don’t matter what you want.” 

“Yeah, a’ight, Princess,” he grunts and looks her over. “You look real beautiful, I ain’t gon’ lie.” 

“You look handsome, too.” She rolls her eyes upward and over. “I told you he was gon’ trip off the jersey.”

“You know I love to see him sweat.” 

“You a supervillain.” 

Erik shrugs and rests his lips at her ears. “I want big and flashy, too,” he admits. “You don’t need no poofy-ass Sweet 16 lookin’ dress, though.” 

“Says you.” Sienna lays her head on his chest and his arms wrap around her back. “We should throw CJ a Sweet 16.” 

“Boys don’t do Sweet 16’s,” he says and glances down at her. “Why? He say he want one?” 

“No, I just think it’d be nice, ya know? We might as well go all out.” 

“There you go spoiling him some more.” 

“Well, duh. This whole parenting thing is just doing more for your kids than what you got, isn’t it?”

“You had a Sweet 16.”

Sienna’s lip curls. “Well, I’m a different case. I was spoiled rotten.” 

“You still are,” he reminds her, twirling them in a circle, making the tassled ends of her dress twirl. “I should stop enabling your fuckshit.” 

“Then what would you do all day? Quit playing.”

“I’m tired of yo’ cocky ass.” 

“No, you not.” 

The remainder of what Shuri calls the “mingling hour” lasts much longer than an hour, but Erik and Sienna make nice talking with other guests anyway. It’s more of Erik doing a quick introduction and Sienna holding onto the two conversational phrases she knows in Xhosa as these people talk, but it somehow makes time go by faster. The majority of the guests actually want to talk with her, and the ones that don’t make it obvious they have no desire to discuss anything with an American. 

She takes no offense to it; America sucks. 

The dinner itself is uneventful. 

To say Sienna is bored would be an understatement; she’s grateful for the opportunity to sit with actual royalty, celebrate their engagement, and be apart of their wedding party, but  _ fuck _ , if she wishes something interesting would happen. Shuri sympathizes with a shrug and a matching look of boredom. 

Sienna’s poorly camouflaged disinterest gets Erik leaning over his seat to whisper something to T’Challa as he gestures over at her with concern. 

T’Challa whispers something back and shoots Sienna a polite smile. “I hope you’re feeling better by tomorrow,  _ umzala,” _ he says to her and waves over a Dora to their table. 

Sienna’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion while Erik takes her hand with a wink as they say their goodbyes and depart from the table. 

“Um, what was that?” she whispers when they reach the hallway. 

“Told T you wasn’t feeling that good and you needed to go back to the room,” he explains, following the Dora back to their quarters. “We finna head out to a real party.” 

“Not you using me as an excuse to leave.” 

“I had to. Had it been me not feeling good that nigga woulda told me to quit being a bitch.”

“A’ight, so where we going now?” Sienna snickers, a giddy hop in her step as she presses herself against Erik’s side. 

“First,” he lowers his voice to a hushed whisper. “We going to the room to get the fuck outta these clothes. After that, you just gon’ have to trust me.”

Sienna should have been suspicious when Erik instructs her to put on comfortable shoes instead of heels to sneak off the balcony. 

She watches in utter amazement as he climbs over the cement railing and scales himself down the attached pillar to the ground with catlike precision. 

“C’mon,” he calls up to her, waving his hand in encouragement as he scopes the gated area for Doras doing their rounds. 

“ _ C’mon _ ?” she repeats incredulously, crossing her arms and shooting him a look. “Do I look like muhfuckin’ Spider-Man to you?” 

“It’s like them lil’ swirly ladders. Just climb down.” 

“Why can’t we just walk out the front door?” 

“And have hella folks asking where we going? Kinda beats the point of sneaking out.” 

“My nigga, we are  _ grown _ .” 

Erik shrugs and jerks a thumb beyond the gates. “Look, I’ll go have fun by myself if you gon’ be scary.” 

Sienna huffs an exasperated sigh and shakes her head. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she tells herself as she tosses her crossbody baguette bag over the balcony for him to catch. 

Heart pumping a mile a minute, Sienna cautiously throws a leg over the balcony, gripping the edge for dear life while her head spins at the vast difference from here to the tile ground. Said pillar spirals with dents in the design perfect for her to step in, and right when Sienna finds the nerve to swing her other leg over, Erik appears under the balcony with his arms spread wide. 

“Don’t trip, Princess,” he says. “I gotchu. Just  _ don’t _ look down.”

“Wherever we going better be worth it if I crack my skull on this damn pavement.” 

“Shut up and climb down.” 

Sienna holds her breath as she swings her other leg over the ledge, hands hooked around it with a death grip as she scoots with minuscule steps to find footing on the pillar. 

“There you go,” he encourages when she slowly begins her descent around the spiraled pillar.

She gets about an inch off of the balcony before realizing she’s pretty much suspended twenty feet in the air with no support but the grace of God and the grip on the bottom of her pink Vans. 

“ _ Shrek, I’m looking down _ ,” she utters to herself when the probability of falling to her death becomes more and more imminent with every tiny step. “Good on you for getting with the rational Prince, Sisi.” 

Would a fall this height kill her? No, but her legs would be done for. 

The thought alone distracts her and before she can recall how it happened, her foot slips and she loses her grip. Her heart leaps into her stomach while a scream emits out of her as she plummets downward with no hopes of stopping. 

“ _ Shit _ !” Erik grunts, and any attempt to catch her is in vain as the impact leaves them a heap of limbs on the tile. He broke her fall and all she can do when she realizes she’s not hurt is laugh at his twisted up face. 

“You fucking idiot,” she giggles before looking up at the balcony to estimate just how high she fell. “Bet you use the front door next time.” 

Erik groans, blinking up at her like he’s trying to remember where they are. “Girl, fuck you. You a’ight?” 

She checks herself for injuries and laughs again when there are none. “I’m good. You?”

“I feel like I just had  _ de strent of de Blek Panta strippedt ewey _ ,” he recites in an accent and laughs too. “You even fall stupid.” 

“All them muscles and you can’t catch lil’ ol’ me.” 

The retort at the tip of Erik’s tongue is cut off when the sound of alarmed guards surface from around the corner followed by the clanking of their armor as they run to their location. 

“Shit,” Erik hisses and grabs Sienna’s hand before flying to his feet and taking off in the opposite direction. Sienna follows suit through the dark of the castle's quarters with just the beat of Erik’s shoes on the ground to guide her. It might just be the adrenaline telling her that the Doras are right on her heels, but she runs regardless, doing her best to not get lost even after losing her fiancé in the maze of the vast infrastructure. 

When it seems like she’s passed the same Jaguar statue for a third time, she’s yanked into the shadows of the dark corner under another balcony with a hand over her mouth. Mere seconds later, the group of Doras whiz by and Erik and Sienna go undetected. 

“We gotta work on your running skills,” he mutters and then removes his hand from her mouth to smack her behind. Sienna hits him back just as hard on his shoulder and retrieves her purse from him. 

“Not everybody an athlete, E,” she whines with a huff to catch her breath. “How we gettin’ outta here with all these damn Doras everywhere?” 

It’s plainly obvious this nigga has done this shit before. There’s no reason as to why he knows all these secret hallways and blind spots to avoid being seen by Doras and guards alike to reach the basement where a hidden trap door leads them to the outskirts of the palace. It’s weirdly satisfying to see his sneakiness up close and personal, and if there was ever any doubt in Sienna’s mind that Erik is military trained, tonight proved her wrong. 

“You shoulda tried out for the Olympics instead of the Navy,” she comments when they reach the bustling streets of Wakanda’s inner city. 

“Yeah, doing what?” 

“Gymnastics. You Catwoman.” 

“You should try out for Extreme Falling.” 

Sienna pinches his nipple and ducks away with a squeal when he tickles her exposed midriff. “Do I really gotta ask where we going  _ again _ ?” she says on the tail end of her boisterous laugh. 

He scoffs and throws an arm over her shoulders. “You so inquisitive.” 

“Come through, SAT word.” 

“Just trust that it’s gon’ be fun.”

“I trusted you to climb off a balcony like somebody’s ghetto Rapunzel and nearly died.” 

“Rapunzel ain’t never climb down nowhere.”

“You know the story of Rapunzel, but look at me dumb when I make any other  _ Disney _ reference,” she points out and side eyes him. 

“Contrary to popular belief, I understand every single reference you make,” he admits with a grin, meeting her gaze. “It’s some’ ’bout you thinking that me at my big age wouldn’t understand where whitewashed-ass Hakuna Matata is from is truly hilarious.” 

The few rays of moonlight able to creep past the warm glow of the street vendors, shops, food trucks, and street lights bounce off Erik’s face at an angle that leaves him looking angelic. Sienna gets to her toes to kiss his cheek and bask in it the entire walk to the bus stop. 

The cubed shuttle hovers just feet off of the ground on its merry way farther and farther from the main city. Sienna stares out the window, unable to tear her eyes away from the intoxicating nature of Wakanda at night. 

The ride lasts about twenty minutes before Erik announces their stop in a rural neighborhood that could be best described as the middle of nowhere. The scattered shacks, people occupying the streets, and thriving music in the distance put Sienna at ease as they hop off the bus and make their way towards said music.

“Ok, now, I’m really intrigued,” Sienna says upon recognizing the reggae music. “I’m also interested in knowing how the hell you found this place.”

Erik shrugs. “You drive around enough, you find some shit. Let’s go.” 

Patrons congregate around the dance hall, drinks in hand, dancing, playing dice, and blowing marijuana smoke in the air that creates a haze around the building that reminds Sienna of the off-campus parties she and Willow used to attend back in the day. Flickering porch lights illuminate the entryway where Erik daps up a bouncer that passes them through with a nod and a familiar greeting in their mother tongue. 

The size of the building outside does nothing for the inside; it’s packed with more people than it looks like should be allowed, but somehow still roomy enough for partiers to dance and relax on the sidelines. The floor vibrates, alcohol and weed permeate the air, and there’s not a fuck to be given.

“Look, I love your family, but they  _ not  _ doing it like this,” she yells above the music. 

He cocks his head sideways in agreement. “And they not going to as long as they think inviting colonizers to they wedding constitutes as diplomatic.” 

“Ooh, another SAT word.”

Erik’s eye roll holds no malice, and he even tries to hide a smile as they navigate through the crowd towards the makeshift bar. The fruity cocktail might as well be juice the way Sienna gulps it down the second it’s in her hands.

“Here,” Erik says, handing her another glass of something green and potent.

“ _ Whew _ !” Sienna yelps and pats her warm chest as Hennessy and Hpnotiq devour her insides. “You tryna kill me?”

“Ain’t nobody tell you to be downing the shit like a grown ass man,” he laughs before taking a sip for himself. “Yeah, that’s something.” 

“Listen, E, we can’t get  _ drunk _ drunk,” she advises him even if she would love nothing more right now. “We still gotta get back and be coherent enough for the wedding.” 

“Don’t worry, Thickums,” he assures her and checks his Patek. “It’s only ten some. We’ll leave at a non-niggerish time, be back in time to get some sleep and do our royalty duties. Sound cool?”

“Three drinks minimum, okay?” she says. “I’m not tryna be hungover.” 

“Three drinks,” he agrees and downs the remainder of the Shrock. 

  
  
  
  


In true Erik and Sienna fashion, they go way beyond three drinks. 

It’s probably the Jose Cuervo that gave Sienna the courage to act a fool, but she stops keeping track after her second cranberry kamikaze shot. Erik isn’t a dancer, but it doesn’t stop him from joining Sienna on the dance floor to watch her galavant with amused interest. 

At some point—and she really doesn’t know how or when it happens—Sienna finds herself grinding against a statuesque model-type that compliments Sienna’s braids with her glossy lips resting against her neck. It’s either the alcohol, the flashing lights, or this woman’s delicate touch that has a rush of heat swarming throughout her like a flame over wood, but Sienna practically melts into it with little to no care. Even with Erik watching, she dares to bend forward and show out in tune with the blaring drum beats against the woman’s front. 

Without a second thought, Erik has a dance partner of his own and smirks like the villain he is as the girl makes work of her hips on Erik’s crotch while Sienna narrows her gaze and laces her chuckle with disdain. The fire burning up in Sienna goes nuclear when he places his hands on either side of her hips to guide her about. 

“Bitch nigga,” she utters under her breath and turns to her partner with a sweet smile and raised finger to excuse herself. 

The poor girl having the time of her life against Erik doesn’t see Sienna coming, but she barely reacts when Sienna pulls Erik away by his forearm and presses herself against his front. 

“Jealousy isn’t cute,” she chastises and retrieves a brown drink from a passing server with a tray. “You hate seeing a bitch have fun.”

“Shut up,” he laughs, taking the drink to sip down half of it. “That shit was hella sexy.” 

“Yeah, you’d think so, huh?” She takes the drink back and finishes it off before setting the glass on a random table. “Why you so horny all the time?” 

Erik’s hands find a place on Sienna’s hips to pull her towards in for an open-mouthed kiss. The mixture of the night’s selection of alcohol poison the kiss, but neither pull away until the familiar thrum of Rihanna’s  _ Work _ takes over the speakers. 

“That bitch Rihanna ain’t put out new music since this dropped,” she says, grinning goofily while he pecks her face and creeps down to her neck. “I hate her.” 

Like clockwork, Sienna turns to rock her hips with Erik’s, unable to stop herself from singing along. The Déjà vu of their first official meeting sentimentalizes the fire from before, and she relaxes in his arms until the song ends. 

  
  
  
  


Leaving at a “non-niggerish” hour doesn’t happen either. 

They tell themselves they’re fine by dipping out at three in the morning because the sun won’t be up for another four hours, but if either of them were sober, they’d know that logic is bullshit. 

They ride the hovering bus the closest route to the palace before stumbling out, sneaking their way back onto the castle grounds and navigating the same route they left to get back to the room. 

“What we gon’ tell the guards at the doors?” Sienna asks since her alcohol-idled brain can’t think of an excuse that’ll explain as to how they left and where they were. 

Erik’s own head can’t think of anything beyond how good she looks in her shorts and crop top, so all he supplies is a shrug and a muttered, “We grown.” 

The Doras do regard them with looks of concern as Erik and Sienna approach their room. There’s a few words exchanged, but if Erik’s hand signaling them to calm down means anything, they should be okay. 

Sienna is swept off her feet the moment Erik slams the door shut behind them. Without a moment of hesitation, he tosses her like she weighs nothing onto the bed and wastes no time getting his lips on her. 

“E, we gotta get to sleep,” she tries to reason, but makes no motion to throw him off of her. “We can’t be doing this nasty shit when we gotta be up soon.”

“I been tryna fuck you since we got here,” he growls, chest vibrating against hers while he toes off his sneakers. “You look so fucking fine in these goddamn braids, witcho ugly-ass.”

“ _ You _ ugly,” she replies without mirth, removing her crop top and tossing it to the side. “Ain’t nobody tryna fuck yo’ mean ass.” 

“Uh huh,” he grunts between a pathway of kisses leading from her neck down her chest and then her bellybutton. “That’s why I can tell you wet.” 

“Man, shut the fuck up and be quick,” Sienna giggles and assists in getting him undressed. 

  
  
  
  


Any standard health education class would’ve told them nothing would be quick about having sex while drunk, so, yeah, Sienna is an idiot. 

She is an idiot who is dying the moment she opens her eyes a pathetic five hours later to a brightly lit suite and loud trap music making her wish for the guillotine. 

It’s official; she  _ hates _ Erik. 

She hates how he can recover from hangovers and smile at her like she isn’t a zombie trudging around the suite trying to get ready for the wedding on aspirin and water since she slept through breakfast. 

“You look like shit,” Shuri comments bluntly upon meeting her outside her and Erik’s quarters. 

Sienna adjusts her sunglasses and forces a smile to stretch across her face. “Your cousin tried to kill me.” 

“He tried to kill me, too,” she tells her nonchalantly. “You kinda get used to it.” 

Doing her face herself becomes irrelevant as soon as Sienna decides she can’t hold a brush without groaning, so Nakia’s makeup artists work their wizardry to get rid of dark under eye circles, dry skin, and heat bumps. 

“Rough night,” Nakia states, rubbing Sienna’s shoulders and offering her plate of fruit. A single bite into a chunk of pineapple does more for Sienna than that painkiller ever could. 

“Yeah, some’ like that,” she agrees and chews slowly so as not to disturb the beautician applying concealer around her mouth. 

“Yeah, T’Challa told me you weren’t feeling that good.” 

Sienna nods at the irony. “Yeah, stomach bug or something.” 

“You’re sure you’re gonna be okay to be a part of the ceremony?” 

Nakia’s puppy-dog eyes might as well be knives stabbing Sienna in the gut. 

Sienna nods again and waves it off. “Wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else, Nakia.” 

It’s a lie, but Sienna really does want to be involved because she loves T’Challa and Nakia. It’s her own fault that the quease in her stomach amplifies when Nakia’s bridal brigade squeezes her into a corset and then a massive, emerald green gown that leaves little to the imagination in terms of her curves. 

“Wow!” Shuri exclaims when she enters the bridal suite this time in her ceremonial gown fixed with glitzy jewels, cape, and iridescent shimmers. “No one would’ve ever thought you woke up in the ninth circle of Hell, Sisi.”

Sienna pulls back from her reflection to glare at the teenager. “A simple  _ ‘hey, Sisi, you look nice’  _ would’ve worked, too.” 

“I’m anything but simple,” Shuri says and loops her arm around Sienna’s to pull her into the dressing room. “Come. Nakia is nearly ready.”

Nakia looks like every bit of the Queen she’ll be as she sits at her vanity waiting for the remainder of her bridesmaids to finish getting ready. Sienna’s jaw drops at the sight of her. 

“T is a lucky man,” she tells her, coming up behind Nakia and placing a hand on her bare shoulder. Nakia grips her hand with a squeeze and grins up at Sienna through the mirror. 

“Remember how I said I wasn’t nervous?” Nakia asks. 

“Yeah.”

“Might be rethinking that now.”

Sienna nods. “It's good nerves, though.”

“Yeah, it is.” 

“Well, if it make you feel any better, just know that while everyone’s eyes will be on you, you won’t be able to take yours off of the one who matters. It’ll all go away once you’re in the moment.”

Nakia glances behind her to shoot Sienna an impressed look. “That’s actually superb advice.”

“I watch a lot of  _ Say Yes to the Dress _ and they stay saying shit like that.”

Much to Sienna’s joy, Nakia actually laughs and her shoulder untenses. 

  
  
  
  


“You look gorgeous,” Erik says, looping his arm with Sienna’s. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she reciprocates the compliment, taking in his line up, radiant skin, freshly twisted and braided locs and dapper dashiki suit draped with a green and gold kente cloth. “T really let you wear a chain.” 

“We had to compromise,” he explains with a shrug. “It was either this or the fronts.” 

Sure enough, his teeth are bare and shining pearly white. “You look nice without them.” 

“Hmmm,” he hums disinterestedly and glances around the hallway at people getting in place and fixing themselves, already impatient with waiting for the ceremony to start. “It don’t matter if we royal or not—niggas gon’ find a way to not start on time.” 

“ _ You _ was late getting down here.” 

“So? I’m American.” 

It takes another twenty minutes for the ceremony to start and when it does, there’s barely a moment to breathe before they’re marching into the chapel and down the longest aisle ever. After Shuri and Ramonda enter to bows from their guests, Erik and Sienna walk next. 

T’Challa, clad in ceremonial garb and a gold crown placed upon his head, waits at the altar and flashes a wide, gracious smile at Sienna like she’s the only one here. The sun filtering through the high rise stained glass windows shine a ray of yellow over him like an angel summoned from Heaven, and without meaning to, her eyes water at his beauty. 

“You crying?” Erik asks and she nods. 

“A little.” She responds despite the heavy tears leaking past her waterproof lashes. 

Sienna takes her place on Nakia’s side of the altar and shields her face with the extravagant bouquet to avoid her twisted crying face being seen. The sheer beauty radiating off of Nakia’s otherworldly aura matches T’Challa’s angelic overcast and they connect like magnets the moment she steps onto the altar. 

The ceremony is conducted in Xhosa and as much as Sienna would love to be in on what’s being said, she smiles regardless. Without understanding a word of their vows, she pats away tears when T’Challa and Nakia take each other’s hands and focus on each other. For once, Erik doesn’t appear annoyed and a smile actually sneaks its way onto his face. 

Applause erupts in the chapel when T’Challa lifts Nakia’s veil for a heartwarming and chaste kiss. Sienna’s own tears intensify when she spots Ramonda and Shuri crying as well. The Queen grants her a comforting hug on their way to the reception hall in the basement. 

“Oh, it’s okay, my child,” she says, patting Sienna’s cheeks with the pads of her thumbs to smooth out smudged makeup. “It’s a lot, eh?”

“It’s just that weddings make me emotional, ya know?” she explains, squeezing Shuri’s hand. “I’m just so grateful I got to be involved.”

“We love that you’re here. Now, let’s celebrate.” 

Thankfully, the reception does not reflect the rehearsal dinner. The string quartet is replaced with a live funk band, the bar has a vast selection, and the food isn't served in minuscule portions. T’Challa and Nakia are carried in on a metallic floating platform, waving to their friends and family flinging white rice at the happy couple. 

“They’re really beautiful, huh?” Sienna sighs in wonder as they take their respective seats at the head table. 

“They a’ight,” Erik scoffs despite the happiness reachin his eyes and offers her a flute of bubbly champagne. “Here.”

“After damn near giving me alcohol poisoning last night, you want me to drink some more?” Sienna takes the glass anyway and shivers at the smoothness on its way down her throat. “You evil.”

“You be a'ight,” he says and sips his own drink. “You was gon’ drink regardless of me.”

He has a point there, but she begins stuffing her face instead of agreeing. 

  
  
  


If there were any limitations on throwing ass at a royal family function, Sienna ignores them and does so as soon as Nakia confirms she takes no offense in her bridesmaids changing into full mobility cocktail dresses. With liquid courage and an insatiable itch to move, any inhibitions Sienna has about Ramonda seeing her break her nephew off dissipate. Erik’s version of dancing is raining dollar bills from a cash cannon and nursing a large bottle of Courvoisier like he’s the star of a rap video. 

Shuri gets ample footage of everyone for her private social media, and Sienna watches the footage back during an R&B slow jam with her head on Erik’s chest. 

“You think they’d notice if we stuffed some silverware in yo’ purse?”

Sienna shakes her head and screen records a video. “I don’t think so.” 

“Good, cus I already swiped some forks.” 

At a certain point, the band switches to American disco music and Sienna cocks her eyebrow up at T’Challa and Nakia from across the dance floor as though to ask,  _ What y’all know about this? _

“My Pops loved this song,” Erik says and twirls Sienna once before pulling her back in. 

“Never would’ve taken him for a Bee Gees fan.” 

“He loved American movies and shit, but Krystal put him onto that  _ Saturday Night Fever  _ joint,” he explains. “They corny asses thought this song was the shit.” 

“Who doesn’t love ‘How Deep Is Your Love _ ’ _ ?” She tucks her phone into his pocket and wraps her arms around his middle. “You’re not  _ that _ cold hearted.”

“You’d be surprised.” 

“Any tough points you thought you had left when you admitted you watch Disney movies,” Sienna chuckles and begins singing along, obnoxiously directing the lyrics at Erik until he caves and sings too. 

  
  
  


Despite last night’s events and this morning’s hangover, Sienna finds herself drunk again. Well, it  _ is _ a wedding, so it’s not totally inappropriate that she is. 

“Open up,” Erik instructs, hovering a forkful of wedding cake before Sienna’s mouth. 

Sienna obeys. “This is the greatest cake I’ve ever tasted,” she moans aloud and opens her mouth for another bite. “ _ Unh _ , it tastes like  _ pussy _ !”

Erik snorts and feeds her a third piece. “I’m sure it do.”

  
  
  


Any attempts Erik makes to remain sober are forgotten when Sienna, gone off vodka shots and champagne, makes it known she’s ready to head back to their suite for a repeat of last night. Tipsy, he finishes off his drink and regards her with determination set in his dark brown eyes. 

“Just wait til’ the party over,” he whispers to her as a suggestion, veiled as a threat. 

  
  


The reception dies down about an hour later and after receiving expensive gift bags and cake to go, guests start to file out. For decorum sake, Erik and Sienna are the last to leave and they send their drunk congratulations to the newlyweds when they do. 

They’re escorted by a couple of Doras to their suite in comfortable silence. Sienna’s shoes are the first thing off the second they step in and shut the door. 

“Have fun?” Erik asks, laying out spread eagle on the bed. She skips over to flop next to him and exhale her alcohol breath right in his face. 

“Nasty,” he groans and nudges her away. 

“Yeah, I had fun,” she sighs wistfully, placing a hand on his chest. “We should go to weddings more often.” 

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” 

“We not having ours here, though.” 

Sienna’s eyelids dip languidly. “I always wanted to get married in someplace like Italy or Greece. One of them spicy white countries,” she says and scoots closer to bury her face in his neck. “Why not here?” 

“You don’t think it’d be kinda fake?” 

“Oh, you mean how half the citizens in this country can’t stand you? Yeah, a little.”

Erik snorts and plays with the end of her braids. “I’m kinda happy it’s not expected of me.”

“You never wanted no high profile shit.” Her voice is muffled between her nips on the salted skin of his neck. “T’Challa respects that.” 

“I want a big ass party, too,” he tells her, waving his hand outward as though to imagine it. “Big enough for all the homies and the fam to come through. Your side of the family might take up most of the space though. ” 

“You done with all this courthouse fuckshit?”

“I ain’t say that.” 

Sienna rolls her eyes. “We’re not getting married in a courthouse,  _ Erik _ .”

“I think we should just consider it,  _ Sienna _ .” 

“ _ Don’t _ call me that.” 

“Now is not the time to talk about it.” 

Sienna snatches herself from his grasp to make her way to the bathroom. “Leave it to you to turn a nice moment into a fight,” she calls out, jerking the faucet on and shifting through her toiletry bag for face wash. 

“Who’s fighting?” he wonders, sitting upward. “ _ You _ brought it up.” 

“I don’t wanna get married because of how convenient it’d be for CJ.” Sienna punctuates her words with stomps around the suite as she gathers her night clothes. “I wanna get married because it’ll be the right time and the right place when we’re ready. I don’t wanna feel like I’m being kept a secret with some bullshit courthouse situation like I got knocked up in high school.” 

“A secret?” Erik repeats. “You think I wanna do this because I’m keeping you a secret? It ain’t no secret we’re together, so fuck is you talmbout?”

“Maybe I just want some traditional shit,” she suggests. “Maybe I wanna have an engagement party and do other bridal shit like taste cakes or pick out flowers and try on a dress!” 

“No one’s stopping you. I ain’t never said we couldn’t do all that.”

“This dumbass courthouse idea says otherwise.”

“If you think our marriage finna be based on all that extracurricular shit you talmbout, then maybe you not in it for the right reason.” 

Sienna twirls on him on her way back to the bathroom with a snarl overtaking her lips. “ _ Fuck _ .  _ You _ .” 

“You such a goddamn brat,” he mutters under his breath and promptly ignores the way she sticks her tongue out like someone’s toddler. 

Erik undresses down to his briefs and packs his suitcase while Sienna continues to passive aggressively do her nightly skincare routine. If his intuition is correct, the faucet stopping means she’s nearly finished. He parks himself outside the bathroom door, grinning down at her when she opens the door and pushes by him like he doesn’t exist. 

“Aye, baby, look,” he begins, leaning on the threshold. “I don’t wanna be fighting all damn night on some  _ Malcolm & Marie _ type shit, a’ight?”

All he receives is silence and the occasional huff of frustration as she packs her suitcase back up.

“You not gon’ talk to me?”

Sienna scoffs as though the question is beneath her. “It’s just that I don’t know how we agreed to pause on wedding talk until after CJ graduates to you having the unmitigated niggerly audacity to say we should consider an impersonal ass courthouse wedding. Like, that’s an insult to me.”

“I never said we couldn’t have a wedding.” 

“Then what the fuck is the point of getting documents at City Hall?”

Erik crosses his arms across his chest and resists rolling his eyes at the corny shit the alcohol is influencing him to say. “You ain’t think maybe a nigga just  _ really _ wanted to be married to you?” he grumbles. “Getting shit official just makes sense ‘cus damn, what if some’ happens to me?”

Sienna’s face softens. “Don’t say shit like that,” she whispers. 

“I’m serious, Princess. I think of wild shit like that ‘cus it’s not just me no more.” 

“We’re not in a rush, E.” 

“I can’t have you ending up like my moms if shit go left.” 

“Nothing is gonna happen to you in the next two years,” she assures herself more than him, matching his pose with crossed arms over her chest. “We can wait to do shit proper. Also, that doesn’t mean I’m in it for the wrong reasons or whatever the fuck you said.” 

He has the decency to appear embarrassed by his own words. “I ain’t mean it like that.” 

“If you ever insinuate I’m with you for any other reason than  _ you _ , I’ll kill you,” she huffs, turning on her heels to get the remainder of her belongings together. “I will literally shoot you in the chest with yo’ own gun.” 

“I believe you.” 

“You owe me an apology.” 

Erik strolls up behind her and encases her frame against his, face buried in her neck and inhaling her face products. “I apologize, baby. That was stupid to say.” 

“You damn fucking right.” 

“Am I forgiven?” 

“Kiss my ass.” 

He’ll take that. “I love you.”

Sienna worms away from his grasp and points a warning finger in his face. “We agreed to not talk about this shit until CJ graduates,” she reminds him. 

“ _ You _ brought it up.” 

“ _ Erik _ .”

One of his eyebrows reach his hairline. “How we not gon’ talk about it if you wanna tell your peoples?” 

She opens her mouth to answer and snaps it shut when she comes up empty. “Shit.” 

“So, what do we do?” 

She pauses to think it over and ultimately releases the breath caught in her throat. “You know what? I don’t know. I just don’t wanna talk about it anymore.” 

“Fine with me.” 

“Forget we even had this conversation.” 

Erik takes her back into his arms. “Thought this was a fight.” 

“If this was a fight, I would’ve punched you in the throat already.” 

“It’s the domestic violence for me.” 

“Stop talking like me.” 

“Can’t help it if I’m witcho dramatic ass all the damn time,” he reasons and pecks her temple tenderly. “I really do love you, Thickums.” 

“Quit being nice or I’mma think you fruity.” Sienna chuckles and wraps her hands around his strong grip. 

“Fellas, is it gay for niggas to love they girl?”

“Now you talking like CJ.” 

“‘Cus his lil’ ass don’t shut the hell up.” 

Sienna's laugh bounces off the walls as she turns in his arms and holds him close in a tight hug. “I’m so tired.” 

“C’mon,” he says and leads them to the bed. “We got a flight tomorrow.” 

The flight, however, doesn’t negate their libidos. 

  
  
  


The following morning, Sienna says goodbye to Ramonda, Shuri, Nakia, and T’Challa with tears running down her face. She’ll truly miss them and Wakanda. 

Erik daps up T’Challa and actually hugs Nakia, Shuri and Ramonda with a bittersweet glimmer in his eyes. He won’t admit it aloud, but he’ll miss them and Wakanda too. 

  
  
  


It’s about one in the afternoon when they arrive back to Oakland. Jet lag takes them prisoner as soon as they enter their house. 

“Hey, guys!” CJ greets from the living room with a wide and welcoming smile. “How was the trip?” 

“Not you asking questions this early in the morning,” Sienna mumbles on her way up the stairs while Erik trudges close behind like a zombie. “Give us five minutes, baby.” 

Five minutes actually means five hours, but CJ has enough  _ Real Housewives of Potomac _ to binge watch in that time. 

  
  
  


It takes about a week for their sleep schedule to align back to normal. 

  
  
  


Life is as normal as it can be once the excitement of T’Challa and Nakia’s nuptials news hitting the press dies down. Shuri emails Erik and Sienna the shots the photographer got of them; Sienna loves them so much that they become decorations on their walls in the family room, Erik’s office, and the main entrance. 

  
  


CJ wants a Sweet 16. Sienna immediately starts planning despite his birthday being months away. 

  
  


Krystal announces her and her partner have decided to move in together. Because he spends all his time on the Sims 4 Build Mode, CJ demands to be allowed to decorate their new apartment. 

  
  


Erik terrorizes the living room for about two weeks after finally getting his hands on a PS5 that may have or may have not been off the black market. Sienna is less than amused. 

  
  


A random stroke of luck comes Sienna’s way when the buyer of the building she’d been eyeing downtown for her salon retracts his bid. Her business plan makes no sense, but it’s the start of something. 

  
  
  
  


In the midst of their normalcy, Sienna’s body does some stuff. 

Said stuff is not unusual…  _ at first _ . 

Cramps and spotting are nothing a Midol, a tampon, and a heating pad couldn’t fix. Strokes of fatigue are defeated by cat naps. Nausea means a swift change in the diet. 

There’s only a problem when the nausea escalates to vomiting first thing in the morning, the cramps and spotting don’t appear when Sienna’s period tracker says they should, and fatigue persists even after eight full hours of sleep.

Have her breasts always hurt this much? Did she always urinate this often? How did her midsection manage to retain this much water all this time without her noticing? 

A wave of shame washes over Sienna as she stares down the various brands of pregnancy tests in the drug store aisle. It’s either her body adjusting for a human being or the fact that she’s even entertaining the idea salivating her mouth like she’ll vomit for the second time today, but she swallows it down before quickly grabbing a multitude of tests. 

  
  
  


The tests stay hidden deep in her purse for another week until there’s a night Erik is scheduled for an appearance. 

“You sure you don’t wanna come?” he asks, fixing the collar of his leather jacket in the main entrance mirror. 

Sienna nods, holding her middle like the subconscious spaz she is. “Yeah, babe, you know I ain’t been feeling good, so I’ll just stay here.”

“Want me to bring you back some’?”

“Just you,” she tells him and kisses his cheek on his way out. He’d be impressed by her running skills if he saw the way she dashes to the kitchen for a plastic cup and then up the stairs to their bathroom. 

The Clearblues and First Responses somehow intimidate her to nervous tears, and a drink would really fix all of this. Drinking got her here in the first place but that’s besides the point.

Getting her hand to stop shaking as she urinates into the plastic cup proves to be the hardest task she’s done in a while. After getting an efficient amount, Sienna places the cup on the counter and washes her hands. 

“You a big girl,” she whispers to herself as she unpackages the digital response test in between giant gulps of much needed air. “You are an  _ adult _ . You grown.” 

She dips each test in the cup and assures no traces of packaging can be found in the bathroom by dumping them all back into her purse to discard later. Each test averages a five minute wait time and suddenly, five minutes is the longest increment of time there could be. 

Sienna stares up at the bathroom ceiling with little to no immediate thoughts while simultaneously every thought in the world flows in and out of her psyche in rapid succession. Dëja vu is a bitch. 

Just as the minutes were turning into days, the alarm rings from Sienna’s phone. She takes her sweet time getting to her feet to check the tests on the counter. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Sienna moves in a haze of uncertainty from the moment she pulls up to her OBGYN’s office and all the way up until the chill of the ultrasound gel being squirted onto her stomach shocks her back to reality. Everything in between is Sienna on autopilot pretending that she hasn’t been experiencing an out-of-body experience for the last week. 

Dr. Cole has always been excellent to Sienna and this time is no different even when she can’t sense her patient’s apprehension. She maneuvers the probe over Sienna’s middle with a joyous smile and determination in her eyes while navigating on the black and white screen of static before her. 

“Ah, there we are!” she exclaims, fixing the wand on a certain spot adjacent to Sienna’s belly button and pointing at a prominent black orb floating on the screen. “There’s our little guy!”

Sienna’s trembling hand flies over her wobbling mouth to avoid screaming and calling her a liar. 

“Wow, that heartbeat,” Dr. Cole continues, clicking a few buttons and displaying a sound wave scan of steady thumps loud enough to echo in the small room. “Very powerful for five weeks, Mama.” 

_ Five weeks.  _

There’s a goddamn heartbeat already. Sienna didn’t even know they were detectable  _ that _ early. 

As much as Sienna trusts Dr. Cole, she really wishes she could know the truth behind the tears running down her face. 


End file.
